


Live Unbruised

by tofadeawayagain



Series: Maudra [1]
Category: Jim Henson's The Dark Crystal Series - J.M. Lee, The Dark Crystal (1982), The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Established Relationship, F/M, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Love, Major Character Injury, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 45,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27117073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tofadeawayagain/pseuds/tofadeawayagain
Summary: Amri leaves the Sog on a routine trip for his resistance efforts, and is gravely injured in the process. When he returns to Sog on the brink of death, Naia quickly realizes what she wants from their life together, even if the circumstances aren’t what she always imagined. Written for Drenchgrot Week 2020. Prompt: “Healing”
Relationships: Amri/Naia (Dark Crystal), Deet/Rian (Dark Crystal), Gurjin/Seladon (Dark Crystal)
Series: Maudra [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979332
Comments: 60
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story about our favorite Drenchgrot couple. This can be read as a standalone; however, it is also backstory for my other WIP, Maudra. I hope you enjoy this fic! 
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of loss/war, extreme bodily injury, graphic injury

_Sigh no more, no more,  
One foot in sea – one on shore…  
-Sigh No More, Mumford & Sons_

* * *

Amri didn’t want to get up. The air was warm, but her skin was cool against his. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to the warmth and humidity of the Sog, but he also wasn’t sure if he wanted to. Not if it meant he’d have to lose this feeling every time he woke up with her in his arms. She was cool and refreshing, just like the air back home.

She _was_ home.

It didn’t help that Naia was curled into his chest so perfectly, her nose tucked against the bottom of his chin, her face hidden in his neck as if she couldn’t get close enough. She’d never let him hold her like this if she was awake. He cherished these moments between sleeping and waking – loved that she took comfort from him instead of providing it, that she let her guard down. He loved when she let him be the strong one, even if just for a short while. It was another reason he loved sharing a bed with her. He got to be the strong one at least twice a day, for a few moments. Usually, anyway. Sometimes she had other ideas – not that he complained much about those.

He knew he should wake her up. The first sun had dawned, and the drums would start any time. She liked to start her days early, to spend time talking with her people and the refugees before joining her mother for official duties. She strove to provide a steady presence for them, to show them that it was possible to see the Crystal and not die, and to escape the Skeksis and keep fighting. She wanted to be dependable, and to spend her days healing the wounded in the Sog’s field hospital. She was the strong one – not just for him, but for everyone. She worked harder than anyone else in the swamp, including her mother. Knowing this, he let her sleep a bit longer.

The first drum started beating, a distant heartbeat, and he thought about the day ahead. Amri tried to distract himself by running his fingers through her locs and his fingertips over the planes of her back. He didn’t want to leave this bed or this little room near the top of the Great Smerth. He didn’t want to leave this woman.

As more drummers began to adopt the rhythm and the song moved closer and closer to the Great Smerth, she inhaled deeply and stiffened. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. Amri could feel her eyelashes against his cheek as she opened her eyes to the dim morning light.

She pressed her lips against his neck, just below his ear, and he spread a hand wide on her back just between her wings. “I want to stay here all day,” he said, his voice still husky with sleep. “Just like this.”

She pulled away enough to meet his eyes, a small smirk on her lips. “You say that every day.”

“And every day, I mean it,” he mumbled, rolling her gently onto her back and hovering over her. She laughed, and he leaned down to catch her lips. Maybe if he distracted her enough –

He lost himself in her, in the feeling of her hands trailing down his arms and sides. He entangled his fingers with hers, pinned one hand over their heads, and trailed his lips down her neck, following the ladder of her sealed gills. It always made her shiver.

He caught her lips once more, hoping, wishing that they could just stay inside this room and forget about the rest of the world – but it was not to be. Naia trailed her free hand along his chest, then pressed gently up against his collarbone. He rolled onto his back at her urging, a frown already on his face. She tucked an arm around his torso and pulled him close, their hair entangled on the pillow they shared. “We can’t,” she whispered. “We both have responsibilities.” Amri could hear the regret in her voice.

He loved that she took her duties so seriously, that she cared so much for her people. Still, some part of him, bitter and petty, wanted to be her sole focus for just one day. He tried to bury it quickly, but she always saw through him. “I’m sorry, love,” she whispered, leaning in to press a quick kiss above his heart and another to his forehead.

She rolled out of bed and crossed the room to the window, splashing her face with fresh rainwater from the basin hanging outside. Amri watched her move to the trunk at the foot of the bed where they kept their clothing, every movement efficient and poised. She donned one of her usual tunics, spartan and sensible save for the embroidery and beadwork along the collar and shoulder that marked her status as the future Drenchen maudra. He always felt as if she was lost to him once she donned these garments, even though he knew that wasn’t true.

Her wings caught the light as they emerged from the back of the garment, a kaleidoscope of black and dazzling indigo. Thra, he did _not_ want to leave her again.

He forced himself upright and left the comfort of their bed to face the day. He crouched in front of the trunk, begrudgingly removing tawny pants, a dark shirt, and a golden brown Spriton leather jacket instead of his normal work clothes.

He pulled the pants on, threading a sturdy belt through the loops, then tugged the shirt over his head, flicking his hair out of his eyes as he smoothed the fabric over his chest. “When will you be back?” Naia had paused, her locs held in one hand with the leather cord she used to secure them forgotten in the other.

Amri clipped his belt pouch at its usual place near his right hip. “Tomorrow afternoon, with any luck. We’re just dropping off supplies.” He pulled the _bola_ he rarely used out of his trunk and tied it onto his belt, as well. “Hopefully there won’t be a legion of Garthim wandering the Plains, this time.”

She dropped her hair and walked over to him, rising on tiptoe to press her forehead against his. “Send someone else,” she whispered, demanding as always, but softly so. It gave him hope – she’d never asked him to stay before.

He shook his head, closing his eyes as they breathed together. “I can’t. Responsibilities, remember?” He tipped her head up and kissed her gently. As he pulled away, he opened his eyes to find hers already open, her brow furrowed with worry. He trailed his knuckles over her cheek, giving her a half smile as she leaned into his touch. “Does this mean you’ll marry me when I get back?” he asked quietly, enthusiasm staining his tone.

She inhaled deeply and searched his face. “No, Amri. Not like this,” she breathed. At least this time she sounded regretful about it. That didn’t stop his stomach from sinking.

He’d asked her to marry him every time he left the swamp. Naia always refused. She wouldn’t marry him just because the world was ending, she insisted. She wanted to marry him when they had a whole life left to live instead of just borrowed time. She refused to change her mind. For someone so practical, that hope was as blind as he’d been when he’d first left the caves. He kept asking anyway.

It didn’t really matter that they weren’t married, he knew. They lived as if they were. They shared a bed and a home, and they shared their lives. Everyone knew that he belonged to her and that she had chosen him. Still – he wanted to have that day before they returned to Thra, a day that was just about the two of them. He wanted to be surrounded by her family and their friends, to see her hair decorated in sogflower blooms, and to dance with her across the hearth of the Great Smerth. He wanted to make her smile. She didn’t smile enough, not anymore. None of them did, really. But he loved her, and so her missing smile hurt more than the rest.

“Well, it couldn’t hurt to try,” he said, trying his best to keep his tone light as he turned away. He retrieved his rucksack from under the bed and set about packing some spare clothes until he had his disappointment under control. The truth was, trying could and did hurt. Every single time, it hurt both of them. Still, he didn’t want to give up. To Amri, giving up felt like he was letting the Skeksis and their war determine when and how he could live his life. Giving up felt like letting them win.

When he felt like he’d successfully masked his feelings, he closed his pack and turned back to Naia. Her hair was still unbound, and she was still standing there, looking conflicted. He crossed to her, turned her around, and pulled the leather tie from her grasp. With tender hands, he gathered her locs behind her head and secured them in place. Then, he wrapped his arms around her waist, placed his chin on top of her head and held her. For once, she allowed it. “I’ve got to go and make sure they’re loading up properly,” he sighed, resigned.

“I’ll go with you.”

Amri released her and retrieved his rucksack, tossing it over one shoulder. Naia pulled the door to their living quarters open. He retrieved the scabbard holding Tavra’s old sword from its place by the door, then followed her into the hall. She took his hand and pulled him along the corridors. Instead of taking him to one of the balconies that Drenchen women used to glide easily from the canopy to the lower reaches of the swamp, she led him to the Stone’s Way, a long tunnel leading from the top of the Great Smerth to the boardwalks and central hearth space below. Amri felt slightly better as she walked alongside him on the slower of the two routes. They didn’t talk, but he appreciated that she was making an effort to stay with him a little longer.

* * *

When they exited the shadow of the Great Smerth, Amri blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the streams of sunlight penetrating the canopy and decorating the swamp floor. The day was still young, but the scent of spices and roasting food already filled the air. Fishermen shouted at one another from their boats as they prepared their nets, and hunting parties gathered in the canopies, spears affixed to their backs, to begin the long trek to the southern reaches of the Sog.

He and Naia crossed the square toward the large cluster of hollowed apeknot roots where Amri spent his days. Two adolescent Grottans, roughly the same age as Naia’s youngest sister, were carrying crates out of Amri’s workshop toward a large cart stationed in the center of the largest boardwalk. Gurjin was standing in the cart, taking crates from the young Grottans and tying down the load. When he spotted them, Gurjin raised his arms and waved enthusiastically. Naia groaned and ignored her brother, but Amri raised his hand in greeting before tugging her into the workshop.

She rarely ever visited him there, though he couldn’t blame her for that. Most of the time, the place smelled terrible. Today, though, he could only smell the lingering scent of the Dousan incense he used each evening to make the air bearable. Amri released Naia’s hand, then tossed his rucksack and sword onto his workstation and ducked below it to pull out the small case of salve he’d hidden from his apprentices.

He set the case down in front of her on the wooden work table and lifted the lid off. Inside, neat rows of little glass jars twinkled at them in the low light. “These are for the hospital,” he told her, picking one up and handing it to her. “It’s a stronger batch than the last attempt, so a little will go a long way. It’s good for burns and wounds, but only if they’re shallow. Anything deeper than a quarter-inch will need dream-healing, still. Apply twice a day for three days,” he said, quickly shooting a hand out to stop Naia from twisting the top of the jar off, “and don’t open it unless you have to.”

She paused, glancing up at him with an amused look on her face. “That bad, huh? What’s in this one?”

He plucked the jar from her grip and put it back in the case, sealing it back up. “Trust me – you don’t want to know. But it works. Your mother and I tested it last week.”

“What happens when you use it on deep wounds?” she inquired.

“Permanent scarring, increased risk of infection, risk of necrotic tissue-”

Naia cut him off in a hurry. “Okay, okay, nothing deeper than a quarter-inch. Understood.” She picked up the case of salve, nodding in greeting as one of his apprentices entered the workshop. “Are you taking any to Sami Thicket?”

“Yes, a few crates. I’m hoping it will help the healers-” He cut off mid-sentence, redirecting his attention across the room as his apprentice prepared to lift a large crate. “Cade! Not those!” He rushed across the room to stop him just as Gurjin entered the room. Amri picked up another small crate of salves and pushed it into Cade’s arms. “You and Embryn don’t need to worry about the bigger boxes. Gurjin and I will get them.”

“Too right, we will,” Gurjin mumbled, scoffing as Cade hurriedly shuffled away. “He’s already almost dropped two cases this morning. You’d think someone learning to be an alchemist would be less twitchy.” He paused and glanced sidelong at Amri. “Or maybe not. Anyway, imagine if he’d dropped one of those and blown up half the swamp. Mother would be furious.” Gurjin leaned against the entryway, looking back and forth between him and Naia and with a huge, mocking smile on his lips. “You’re running behind, today. Up late, lovebirds?”

Amri glanced back at Naia, who was preoccupied with glaring at her brother, and chose to ignore his question. “I don’t think it would have blown up half the swamp. Maybe an eighth?”

“So much better,” Gurjin quipped.

Naia set the case of salve down on his work table and walked over to inspect the crate. “Why do you have something explosive stored so close to the hearth?” She slid the lid off and reached for one of the items inside. Both Amri and Gurjin made to stop her, but she glared at them both and they stood down immediately. She picked up one of the _bola_ stacked within and kept it at arm’s length, as if it might try to take a bite out of her.

“Just don’t drop it, whatever you do,” Gurjin warned her.

She carefully inspected the counterweights, which were usually much heavier and made of stone. These consisted of spheres of compressed black, glittering power, sprinkled with red moss and wrapped in twine. “What did you do?” Naia asked, suspicion in her voice as she turned around to face Amri.

He gestured feebly in the air. “They’re harmless as long as they don’t have a hard impact. They aren’t going to blow up the swamp.”

Gurjin pushed himself off the door jamb and crouched next to Naia. “ _Bola_ bombs. One time use, but very effective. Blows the Garthim’s legs right off if you toss them correctly. They’ll be a game-changer.” He beamed with pride at Amri, and Naia looked shocked.

He smirked at her. “What? I’m capable of having good ideas now and again.” He noticed Cade and Embryn lingering near the entryway, looking timid, and waved them inside.

She scowled. “I know that. I just didn’t expect you to start making explosives, that’s all. Usually you tell me when you’re working on something insane.”

Amri shrugged. “I didn’t want to worry you.” He handed a few cases of salve off to his apprentices. “When you two are done loading those, you can go and get the armaligs for us. I bet they’ll be pleased to see you both.” He was happy to see Cade and Embryn’s ears perk up and cheerful smiles spread across their faces. Both of them had worked with the nurloc herds, back home, and they missed spending time with animals. They didn’t smile enough, either, and he always tried his best to reward their hard work with something they’d truly enjoy.

The two scurried away, eager to get to the armalig stables, and Amri turned to find Naia watching him, that same soft, possessive look in her eyes that she’d had when she’d asked him to stay.

Amri felt lighter as he gave her a half-smile before ducking his head to quickly kiss her cheek. He then pulled the _bola_ bomb from her hand, placing it back in the crate and replacing the lid. He glanced over at Gurjin, who was busy smirking at his sister. The two of them appeared to be having a conversation with only their eyes, as they often did. “Shall we get these loaded, then?”

“Yes, alright,” Gurjin agreed. “We’ll be lucky to leave before the second sunrise after you two kept us waiting.” Gurjin broke his gaze away from Naia’s as a blush started to darken her cheeks, and winked at Amri.

Naia followed them, carrying Amri’s rucksack and sword, as they very carefully carried the first of five crates full of bombs out to the cart. Gurjin climbed into the cart and took Amri’s pack from Naia, tying it into place beside his own. Naia and Amri lifted the box into the air, then stepped back as Gurjin took it to begin the tedious process of securing it among the stacks of other supplies.

“I should go to meet Mother and let you leave,” she said, frowning as he strapped his sword into place on his back. Amri was pleased to hear that she didn’t sound at all enthusiastic about it.

“Or we could forget about all this and go back to bed,” he teased. “It’s still an option.”

“No, it isn’t,” she grumbled, allowing him to draw her into his arms. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and exhaled as she leaned her head against his chest, squeezing his waist tightly. “Be careful.”

He savored the moment, pressing his lips to the side of her head. “We will. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

Naia pulled back, reaching up to place her hands on each side of his face. She kissed him firmly, with longing – a way she had never before kissed him in public – and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. He returned the kiss measure for measure, pulling away only when he heard Gurjin laugh and clear his throat behind them.

Naia pulled away, but ignored her brother. “I love you,” she told him, quiet and sincere, her eyes full of apologies that she didn’t voice.

Amri nodded, squeezing her hands once before letting them go and taking a step back. “I love you, too.”

Naia turned her attention to Gurjin. “And you.”

“And you,” he responded, his smile huge and knowing.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said firmly, giving both of them one last, lingering look before she turned around and walked back across the central boardwalk toward the Great Smerth.

Amri watched her go, thinking absently about the way she’d just kissed him and what it meant. Gurjin bumped his shoulder with his own. Amri tore his attention from Naia’s glittering wings, reaching up to scratch the back of his head awkwardly.

“She told you no again, huh?” Gurjin asked, voice low.

“Of course she did,” Amri groaned, running a hand through his hair and feeling discouraged. Was it that obvious?

Gurjin tugged him back toward the workshop to grab the rest of the crates. “Don’t worry. You’re wearing her down.”

Amri scoffed.

“You are,” Gurjin insisted, ducking through the entryway to the workshop and dragging the second crate over. As they carried it back toward the cart, he laughed out loud. “The whole of the Great Smerth must have seen that kiss.”

Amri couldn’t keep a blush from crawling down his neck at the thought of it.

* * *

Gurjin gave a shout of joy upon spotting a familiar Stonewood leaning casually against a tree at the edge of the Spriton Plains and the Dark Wood. He clung haphazardly to the edge of the cart as they approached the tree line. As soon as the cart began to slow, Gurjin jumped to the ground and ran over to his old friend, clapping him on the back. “Rian! What are you doing this far south?” Gurjin demanded, holding Rian at at arms length for a moment before embracing him again.

“Kylan and I are heading to the Wellspring, so we offered to help bring you the supplies from Grot on the way.” Gurjin shouted again before running into the line of trees. Amri laughed under his breath as he heard another happy reunion nearby.

Amri didn’t begrudge his friends their joy. There were precious few happy moments in these times. Still, they were rather louder than Amri was comfortable with while in some of the most dangerous territory in the Skarith Lands. Deciding that he’d become far too accustomed to the safety of the swamp, he kept his ears piqued to listen for anything approaching. The Plains were clear, but that didn’t mean the woods were.

Amri climbed out of the cart as the armaligs scuttled out of their harnesses to munch on the tall grasses and scratch their shells against the trees. Rian loped over to him, hugging him tightly as soon as he set foot on the ground.

“It’s good to see you, Rian,” Amri said, returning the embrace. “How’s Deet?”

“She’s doing well. Cheerful, stubborn, the usual. She gets tired with the baby, and Maudra Argot keeps her quite busy, but she’s happy.”

“Only a few unum to go,” Amri teased. “Excited?”

“Yes, of course! I’m nervous, though,” Rian sighed, lowering his voice as if he were ashamed to admit it. “I’ve never spent much time around babies before… I’m worried I’m going to muck it all up, somehow.”

“It’s alright to be nervous,” Amri told him, turning to watch as the Rose Sun began to sink behind the Claw Mountains, staining the distant clouds in shades of brilliant pink and lavender. “It’s a lot to think about, having someone tiny to take care of, especially with everything going on. You’ll be fine, I’m sure of it. If Gurjin can handle it, you certainly can.”

Rian burst into hearty laughter. “That doesn’t make me feel much better!” He looked trine younger. Rian and Naia had that in common, Amri thought. They felt everything so deeply and took on so much responsibility that they sometimes forgot what it felt like to feel weightless. Rian glanced back at the trees warily, still laughing. “Don’t tell Gurjin this, but I had to watch his daughter while the Maudras met the last time I was in Ha’rar, and I was terrible. She hated me – cried the whole time.”

Amri snickered. “Ah well, you win some, you lose some. From what I hear, she’s rather stubborn just like her aunt, so don’t take it too personally.”

Rian grimaced. “Speaking of Naia and being stubborn…”

Amri shrugged, staring down at their twin shadows in the fading light.

Rian squeezed his forearm in sympathy. “She’ll come around, Deet’s convinced of it.”

“I might just give up,” Amri groaned, only half joking.

Rian chuckled. “You never know – maybe not asking her will do the trick. Maybe she just needs a bit of a shock.” He nodded toward the tree line. “Come on – Kylan’s got supper started.”

Rian led him out of the Plains and into a grove of wind-blown trees at the edge of the forest. It was a good location for a handoff. The trees were just dense enough to provide cover from spying eyes on the Plains or in the air, but still far enough apart to provide a quick escape if needed. Still, Amri had much preferred their previous cache, a cave close to the Black River. It had provided plenty of shelter for excursions that lasted overnight, and it had reduced the need for face-to-face handoffs of goods. It had been infiltrated by Crystal Bats two unum ago, and was no longer viable. It had cost the resistance an entire unum’s worth of fungal growth from the Sanctuary back in Grot, a key ingredient in one of Amri’s best healing salves.

Kylan and Gurjin sat nearby at a small cooking fire. A dozen others, all heavily armed and clad in the familiar raiment of Vapran paladins or Stonewood and Spriton guards, sat around other cooking fires scattered throughout the grove. A small herd of saddled landstriders were tethered to the trees at the far end of the grove near a small stream. Two armaligs waddled into and out of the stream near a fully-loaded cart similar to the one Gurjin and Amri had brought from Sog.

Amri raised an eyebrow. “What’s all this?”

Rian survey the group of Gelfling. The weight on his shoulders returned, suddenly and visibly, and he sounded weary. “We’ve been getting larger groups of Garthim patrolling the Wood, lately.”

“Is that why you’re-” Amri gestured vaguely at Rian, who was outfitted with twin scabbards for the repaired Dual Glaive on his belt, a wicked looking crossbow and quiver of bolts strapped to his lower back, and a dagger poking from the top of his right boot. Amri hesitated, thinking about the sword on his own back, and the _bola_ and pouch full of Grottan tricks on his belt. “Well, I was going to say ‘unusually lethal’, but I guess the right term is actually ‘prepared’, isn’t it?”

Rian gave him a brief, amused grin, before fading back into seriousness. “I’d carry more if it wouldn’t weigh me down. I don’t want to take any chances, not with the baby on the way.” Amri didn’t bother to mention that being out here at all was taking a chance. Rian already knew it, and pointing it out wouldn’t do any good. “We lost the supplies we sent to Ha’rar last week because of them. Brea and Maudra Argot wanted to ensure these made it to the Southern Line.”

Amri scowled at the forest floor. “Any idea what was lost? I’ll send what I can when Gurjin heads back to Ha’rar.”

“Deet sent a list for you.”

Amri resisted the urge to ask Rian more questions about news from the home of the resistance, located in an old Stonewood town at the eastern edge of the Dark Wood, far from ruined Stone-in-the-Wood. There was time for more news later. Now was the time to enjoy the company of his friends and their laughter.

The two men continued walking toward the fire as the Rose Sun’s light vanished from the sky, leaving the grove shrouded in dusk’s shadow. Amri felt at ease in the low, purple light of the Dying Sun, even after a few trine above-ground. He supposed it was lucky that he’d gone with Naia to Sog – the canopy kept much of the blazing light out, unlike the glaring ocean or the endless grasses in the Plains.

Kylan stood as they approached, smiling wide as he placed a hand on Amri’s shoulder in greeting. “It’s good to see you.”

Amri grinned and pulled him in for a quick hug. “And you, old friend.”

Kylan had changed these last few trine. When they’d first met, he’d had the general air of neglect about him. Although he hadn’t been malnourished physically, he’d always looked hollow to Amri. Kylan was still tall and lanky, but he was much more sure of himself. His eyes had lost that haunted look, and he was quicker to a smile than a frown. Although he still carried a _firca_ around his neck, there was also a bow and quiver of arrows strapped to his back, and a Stonewood dagger like Rian’s sheathed on his left bicep.

“Gurjin tells me you’ve been busy inventing, and that’s why we’ve been carting around hundreds of pounds of explosives.” Amri was sure that Gurjin had told him much more than that, and was grateful that Kylan chose to steer the conversation in a different direction.

Rian’s ear perked up with interest. “Wait, seriously? We have?”

Kylan cocked an eyebrow at him. “Didn’t Deet tell you what was in the barrels before we left?”

Rian avoided the question. “What did you invent, Amri?”

Kylan shook his head, mildly exasperated at Rian’s antics. “Out with it, Shadowling.”

Amri gave Kylan a half-smile. “You know, the only other person who calls me that these days is Bellanji.”

“Only because it drives Naia mad,” Gurjin said wryly, passing Amri and Rian each a bowl of stew. “He’s invented a new weapon, Rian.”

The four of them settled on the ground around the fire as Rian turned his bright gaze to Amri. “New weapon? What kind of weapon?”

“ _Bola_ bombs,” Amri said, taking a large bite of his stew.

“We tested them on some Garthim near Sog a few weeks ago. Blasts the legs clean off if you hit them right,” Gurjin explained.

Rian looked excited. “Do you have any here?”

Amri wrinkled his nose. “I’m not sure I trust you with one, Rian the Risk-Taker. You might just blow your own legs off, and I don’t think Deet will be very pleased with me for that.”

Rian narrowed his eyes as all three of his friends sniggered at his expense. “I’m not _that_ reckless.”

“Yes, you are,” Gurjin snorted.

Rian ignored them all. “So, do you have one?”

Amri nodded, gesturing back at the tree line. “There’s a few in the cart. We dropped most of them off at Sami Thicket. You can try one later tonight if the Plains stay clear. They’re loud.”

“They’re great,” Gurjin said between bites of stew. “We might have a fighting chance with these.”

Amri flushed. “I don’t know about that.”

Gurjin flapped a hand at him dismissively. “Trust me.”

“They won’t be any use at all up north,” Amri argued. “There’s hardly enough room to swing a _bola_ in the middle of Stonewood territory, and just imagine them in the mountains during snow season. I bet they’d cause rockslides, avalanches-”

Kylan cut in. “It’s the perfect weapon for the Plains, and in Sog. The fighters will already know how to use them, and they’ll be able to maintain a good distance from the Garthim.”

Gurjin nodded. “I tried to tell him that, but he’s bad at taking credit when it’s due.”

Amri’s flush deepened. He remained silent and continued eating his stew, hoping the others would take the hint and move on. Rian came to his rescue this time, turning to Gurjin and asking about his most recent travels up and down the Sifan Coast from Sog to Ha’rar.

It wasn’t that Amri didn’t like praise – he did. He liked that people respected his work, and he liked that he could help make a positive difference in the war. He simply didn’t want to get his hopes up. He’d become accustomed to the idea of surviving for as long as they could, of doing the best they could with the world they had. He wasn’t as pessimistic as Naia, but he also didn’t have the same optimism as Gurjin about their prospects against the Skeksis.

Amri listened with only half an ear while Kylan and Rian told Gurjin about their upcoming travels to the Wellspring. Rian and Gurjin commiserated about Deet’s stubborn refusal to leave the resistance camp and come to Sog.

He stared at the fire. Once, the flames would have burned his eyes. Now, after trine under the suns, he barely noticed how bright they were. So much had changed, and yet, so much remained the same. He thought about Naia’s reaction that morning, when she’d learned he’d been making bombs. Would she be proud of him, he wondered, if they made a difference?

Kylan cleared his throat next to him, startling Amri out of his thoughts and back into the present. He nodded back toward the stream. “Come with me to clean the dishes?”

Amri nodded, flicking his hair out of his eyes before standing to collect everyone’s soiled bowls and utensils. Kylan retrieved the soup pot from above the fire, and the two men left Rian and Gurjin alone, wrapped up in a discussion about diapers that Amri would have found comical if he wasn’t so distracted. The two men walked across the clearing in easy silence.

Amri crouched next to the stream, rinsing the bowls and utensils in the cool, clean water. He waited for Kylan to start the conversation, as he always did. The best part about Kylan, Amri thought, was the way he saw every part of a person, even the parts they didn’t want you to see.

“Gurjin told me.” Kylan glanced up at his friend, gave him a sad smile. “I was hoping she’d have changed her mind by now.”

Amri shrugged. “She’s Naia. Does she ever change her mind?”

Kylan set the soup pot aside and sank to the ground, hugging his knees to his chest. “It’s been known to happen.”

Amri dropped to the ground beside him, lying back to stare at the stars. They reminded him of the ceiling in Domrak, sometimes. He tried not to think about it so that he didn’t have to miss it. Still, something about being out here with an old friend made it feel safe to think of home. Kylan had been there when he’d lost his home, after all. Kylan wouldn’t judge him if he felt sad, just as Naia never commented when he spent hours sitting under the glow moss at the heart of the Great Smerth.

“I feel stuck,” he admitted, glancing up at Kylan. “This war has already taken everything – Domrak, my family.” He returned his gaze to the heavens and allowed himself to speak unfiltered. “Sometimes I wonder if she even realizes how it feels. She’s still got the Sog. She’s still got her family. I don’t think she realizes that I’m just standing on a precipice most of the time, waiting for her to make a choice. I’ve made it very clear that I don’t want to wait until this war is over to start our life together.”

Kylan leaned back, following Amri’s gaze to the twinkling lights in the great purple sky above. He thought for a long while before speaking again. “Naia is intuitive most of the time. She sees things clearly. Everything except herself.”

Amri groaned. “She’s letting this war rob us of our future. I just don’t understand why. I know she loves me. But I don’t know why she’s stalling like this.”

Kylan gave him a wry smile. “Have you tried asking her?”

Amri scowled. “Yeah, but she’s great at dodging the question.”

“If I know Naia – and I do – she’s probably terr-”

Amri went still as he heard a familiar sound, one that always made his stomach drop. He reached out, placing a hand on Kylan’s forearm to silence him.

“Amri?”

The Grottan’s ears flicked toward the area just left of them, closest to the landstrider herd, as the sound came again. A clicking, like the moon beetles back in Domrak, but louder.

“Garthim!” Amri yelled, just as a sudden rush of movement came from the tree line. Two landstriders shrieked as the Garthim’s claws snapped shut around their hind legs, bringing them to the ground. Amri dragged Kylan away from the stream, the dishes and conversation forgotten. He was intent on getting them away from the flailing legs of the herd, and on putting distance between them and the Garthim.

Kylan broke free of his grip and ran back to the nearest landstrider. He pulled his dagger free from its sheath and cut it free from the tie line, climbing into the saddle. “I’m cutting them loose. We’ve got to keep the Garthim away from the supplies.”

Amri didn’t hesitate, scrambling back toward the campfire. “Go!” he called to the other Gelfling. “Get to open ground!” Behind him, he could hear the screaming of the two injured landstriders, and dull thuds as their hooves connected with the Garthim’s body armor. Rian and Gurjin were already on the move, waving their arms and yelling, doing their best to distract the Garthim and lead it to the open fields beyond the grove.

Amri crouched low beside the fire, scrambling through the kindling pile to find a stick long enough to serve as a makeshift torch. He found one, then reached hurriedly into his pouch for a jar of everburn. As he hurriedly removed the lid and dunked the end of the stick into the paste, he looked back over his shoulder. Across the clearing, Kylan was busy cutting landstriders free, moving swiftly between the creatures, avoiding the ungainly lunges of the Garthim as best he could. Behind him, still cloaked by the trees, Amri could make out the forms of six more Garthim, all of them moving swiftly and steadily toward the noise.

“Kylan, behind you!” he called. He tucked the jar back into his pouch, jamming the end of his torch into the campfire. It caught immediately, and he stood, waving the torch through the air as he ran back toward the armalig cart they’d left at the edge of the Wood. It was enough to distract the Garthim from their path toward Kylan, who was able to cut the last landstrider loose just as the large group of deadly creatures reached the edge of the clearing.

Kylan directed his wide-eyed landstrider toward Amri, ignoring the seven massive creatures scuttling toward them as he slowed. “Get on, quickly!” The song teller leaned over in the saddle, reaching down to grab Amri’s hand and boost him onto the tall creature’s back. As soon as Amri had settled behind him, he kicked the landstrider into a gallop toward the edge of the wood.

“Get to the cart,” Amri demanded, frantically looking at the surrounding trees to try and spot any additional Garthim. “We’re going to need those bombs.”

“Do you have enough?” Kylan asked as both men ducked and swayed to avoid low hanging branches.

“I don’t know. We didn’t take many. We left the rest in Sami Thicket.” Amri felt regret and panic building in his stomach. Why had they taken so few?

“We’ll have to make them count, then,” Kylan said steadily, burying his hands in the landstrider’s mane for a better grip.

They broke through the tree line, followed closely by the Garthim. Kylan urged their mount straight for the abandoned cart, avoiding groups of guards and paladins preparing to fight the beasts. The armaligs, sensing danger, had curled into defensive balls near their harnesses, using their hard shells for protection.

All around them, Amri heard the screech of metal on metal as weapons were pulled from their scabbards. Landstriders were running every which way, some of them joining the attack against the Garthim with their hooves, and others loping across the Plains in fear. Rian and Gurjin had already engaged a Garthim a short distance away. Kylan slowed his mount, and Amri watched Gurjin swing his halberd into a cluster of the creature’s legs, causing it to shriek. Rian was fighting with one half of the Dual Glaive in each hand, hacking away at the joint just above the beast’s claw.

Kylan pulled the landstrider to a halt next to the cart, and Amri slid from the saddle. Kylan brought the landstrider around to face the battle, leaning down to pat its neck reassuringly as it shifted nervously from foot to foot. Amri couldn’t blame the creature for being unnerved by the Garthim’s shrieking. The sense of wrongness that always accompanied the Garthim, the way that Thra went still around them, terrified him. He wanted nothing more than to run in the opposite direction and never stop. But running in the opposite direction and leaving them alive could lead them back to Sog, and he wouldn’t – couldn’t – do that.

As Amri ran across the empty bed of the cart, he could hear the telltale snap of a bowstring as Kylan joined the fray, firing arrows at the nearest Garthim. Amri slid to his knees next to the last remaining crate and pulled off the lid. Several jars of his new healing salve remained inside, alongside two smoke bombs, a small case of ingredients and fresh herbs he’d acquired in Sami Thicket, and four _bola_ bombs. He paled at the sight, hoping with all his might that there weren’t any other groups of Garthim nearby to be summoned by the sounds of battle.

He grabbed the four bombs and ran back toward Kylan, propping the torch into the corner of the cart to provide some light for his friend. “Take these,” he said, handing two of the bombs over the cart wall. “Only throw one at a time so they don’t blow up while you swing. Toss them right at the legs, don’t even try for the armor.”

“How many times have you tested these?” Kylan asked, accepting the bombs with apprehension.

“Gurjin’s been testing them for weeks. They work. But just aim for the legs. It’s a sure shot, and we’ve only got four.”

“I won’t miss,” Kylan said, confidently, a promise. Just a few trine ago, Amri remembered, Kylan had been terrible with a _bola_. Amri had never seen the sky, had never touched a sword. He hated this war and how it had changed them.

Kylan quickly tied one bola to each side of his belt, his eyes flicking around the battlefield. “Do you have any everburn? I’ve got an idea.”

“A bit. Not much.” Amri draped the ropes of the remaining bola around his neck, reaching into his pouch for the jar. “Here.”

“It’s enough.” Kylan took the jar and removed the lid, swiftly pulling an arrow from his quiver and dipping the point into the paste. He jerked his chin at the torch. “Leave that here, will you? We both know you don’t need it.” Amri grinned facetiously as Kylan ignited the arrow, looking triumphant in the sudden glow. “Let’s return them to Thra,” Kylan whispered, taking aim.

Amri swung his legs over the edge of the cart, landing in the dirt just as Kylan’s arrow hit home in the neck of the nearest Garthim. Brilliant blue fire blazed around the creature’s head and ignited the ichor dripping from every unnatural joint along it’s carapace. The beast began to shriek, a sound that made Amri’s bones go cold. It stumbled, swiping its claws through the air in a vain attempt to free itself from the fire.

The paladins and guards that had been fighting the creature moved away, keeping clear of the Garthim’s legs as they ran toward a new target. Kylan urged the landstrider back toward the battle with three more burning arrows in his grasp, guiding the creature with his knees instead of the reins, and looking every inch a Spriton warrior.

To his left, Rian and Gurjin were holding their own against two Garthim. Rian moved like a dancer, fluid and smooth, twisting through the air as he wielded his mythic blade. Gurjin was focused and using his brute strength to great effect. He was already spattered in gore, looking deadly, and it made Amri shiver. To his right, guards and paladins fought against the remaining four Garthim, ducking and rolling out of the way as the creatures lunged.

One of the guards didn’t move quickly enough. Amri heard her screaming as she went down. Three of the others surrounded her, trying to defend her and keep her safe. Amri had seen enough of these battles to know that the defensive choice was nearly always the wrong one. Ceding the offensive role to the Garthim was how Gelfling got killed, or worse, taken.

He pulled his blade from the scabbard on his back and joined the fray, running as fast as he could toward the fallen guard. Already, the tide was turning. With so many of the fighters distracted, the Garthim began to spread out and cover more ground, forcing the group to split with them. They were like the Skeksis, dedicated to division and destruction.

Kylan sent a flaming arrow across the field to try and distract the Garthim from its targets, but it glanced off of the creature’s protective shell. Amri rushed in, raising his sword to block the lesser of it’s two claws. Sparks flew as his sword and the razor sharp edge collided, and he ducked to avoid the retaliatory swipe of its larger claw. “We have to move it back!” he called over his shoulder, toward the cluster of Stonewood fighters behind him. He took a swipe at it’s legs, and buried his blade deep into the nearest limb. Two of the guards joined Amri as the third dragged their injured comrade a safe distance from the fight. The Garthim lunged for them, but they feinted, dancing just out of its reach to try and lure it further away.

When Amri was satisfied that the creature was distracted from its original quarry, he pulled away from the fight and ran back toward the injured Stonewood. He slid to his knees next to her, glancing up at the Vapran paladin who had his hands on her shoulder, putting pressure on her wounds. The woman was crying but alert, her forehead covered in sweat and her torso slathered in the beast’s ichor. Amri rummaged in his belt pouch. He pulled out a bottle full of clear liquid, and a second, smaller jar containing a thick, dark gray paste. He jerked his chin toward the fight. “I’m the apothecary from Sog. Don’t worry, I’ll take it from here,” he panted. “Just keep that thing away.”

The paladin nodded and pulled his hands away, running back toward the Garthim. Amri took over applying pressure, then smiled down at the Stonewood guard, trying to be as comforting as possible. Her shoulder was bloody, but not soaked through. It was a good sign. “How’s it feel?” he asked, trying to channel that same bedside manner Naia always used to make her patients feel at ease.

“The cut isn’t bad. I’ve had worse. Still, I can’t move the shoulder.”

Amri nodded, then pulled the shoulder of her tunic aside. He gently prodded at torn skin that spread across her collarbone. It was jagged, but shallow. The shoulder joint was swollen and looked dislocated. “I’m going to clean this cut and seal it up. It’s going to hurt, and it’s going to smell terrible. But it’ll help.”

He worked quickly, first applying a cleaning solution of Maudra Laesid’s design to clear the wound of the Garthim’s black slime. “This is going to stink,” he warned her again, lifting the jar of healing salve to his mouth and pulling the cork out with his teeth. The stench was nearly overpowering and made his eyes water, but he disregarded it. He smeared a liberal amount over the wound, wishing he had a bandage to keep it clean as it healed.

He quickly corked the ointments and shoved them back in his belt pouch, helping the woman to sit up. “Ready for the worst part?” Behind them, the sounds of the battle picked up, swords clanging and voices yelling. They sounded desperate, but he forced himself to focus on the task at hand.

The woman nodded, bracing herself as he crouched behind her. He wished Naia were here, or that Gurjin wasn’t busy fighting. They were much more skilled at setting bones and fixing joints. He didn’t give the guard a countdown – he’d learned from Maudra Laesid that unexpected pain was usually kinder, in the end – before rotating her arm. She screamed, but cut it off quickly, not wanting to draw attention to their position.

Behind them, he heard another strangled cry. This time, the voice was familiar. He whirled around to see Rian falling to the ground, blood flooding down the back of his right leg. Three Garthim were rapidly closing in on his friends, and the sight made Amri’s blood run cold. Gurjin stepped over Rian protectively, swinging his halberd from side to side as he tried to decide which Garthim was the most immediate threat.

All thought for the injured guard vanished as he tore across the Plains toward his friends. There was a rushing in his ears, a lack of sound. He couldn’t look away as Gurjin blocked a strike from one of the Garthim, nearly losing his footing. He’d lost his family once, already. He wasn’t going to lose his brother to these monsters. He couldn’t. He pulled one of the _bola_ bombs loose, balancing it in his hand as he got within striking range.

“Gurjin, get down!” Amri swung the _bola_ bomb in a rapid circle above his head. Gurjin tucked his head and dove to cover Rian, and Amri took aim and let the explosive fly. His aim proved true, and the resulting blast echoed through the Plains as two of the three Garthim tumbled to the ground. Gurjin was already starting to drag Rian backwards toward the armalig cart. He looked up, his usual carefree grin on his face, and caught Amri’s eye.

Suddenly, Gurjin’s smile was gone, replaced by terror. Amri heard the clicking just behind him. It was too close.

It was too late.

He was jerked backward through the air. The sound of many moving legs was all he could hear, loud and disorienting. He couldn’t see Gurjin anymore, just sky – a beautiful, endless blanket of glittering stars. Then, pressure. Unbearable, horrible pressure, from his left shoulder to his right hip.

He felt his blood welling around the teeth of the Garthim’s claw, the release and then the burn as his skin relented. He’d seen an overripe peachberry once, back in Stone-in-the-Wood. Remembered how the fruit had split, the skin curling away to reveal the bruised flesh within.

He felt exposed. He felt undone.

He dropped his sword as his ribs gave way, one by one, splintering as the Garthim’s claw closed tighter and tighter around his body. The others were screaming his name, raising it to the heavens as his chest transformed into fire and the fire consumed his breath.

With another jerk, the stars were gone from his field of vision, replaced by waves of prairie grasses swaying gently in the breeze. He was slumped forward over the creature’s claw, limp as a cloth doll. The Plains were stained purple in the light of the Dying Sun, his final dusk. He was moving too quickly, his feet brushing the grass as he was rocked back and forth in his cradle of pain.

He could see the trees just ahead, and he knew what was coming next. There was a clear path in front of him, a path that ended in mockery and terror and emptiness. Another burst of white-hot pain, this time from his abdomen, provided him a momentary clarity within the haze of pain he had become. He was running out of time. He struggled against the claw that held him tight, forcing himself to act.

Amri reached up, groping at his shoulders. He tried to ignore the rattling sound from his lungs as he strained for air, tried not to acknowledge the slick, hot blood running down the Garthim’s claw from the ruin of his chest. His shaking hand closed around the rope still draped around his neck. His last _bola_ bomb.

He heard someone screaming for him again. The voice was closer now, but still far enough to be clear of the blast. Far enough to keep them safe.

He was glad he didn’t have to think about aiming. His limbs felt wintry, numb, already distant. Clumsily, he spun the _bola_ in a wide arc, using the last of his strength to hurl the weapon down toward the ground, into the cluster of scuttling legs below him.

He would return to Thra on his own terms, or die trying. He may be undone, but he refused to be torn asunder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are interested in some music that inspired some of these scenes, here's a little playlist:  
> Sigh No More - Mumford & Sons  
> Slow Dancing in a Burning Room - John Mayer  
> Bleed to Love Her - Fleetwood Mac  
> Field - Keaton Henson, Ren Ford  
> Candles - Daughter  
> Seven Devils - Florence & the Machine  
> comatose - sod ven
> 
> Thanks for reading this installment of what I've lovingly been referring to as Amri-Ouch or McSkewer/McScramble. Chapter 2 coming soon!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Amri is grievously injured in a battle with several Garthim, Gurjin, Kylan and Rian must find a way to keep their friend alive and get him back to Sog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Severe injury, graphic description of injury, blood, gore, potential death, high stress situations, and lots of feelings.

_…love me and mend,  
this is not the end…  
-Sigh No More, Mumford & Sons_

* * *

Gurjin was frozen, horrified, as he watched the Garthim tumble backward. It’s legs were gone and half of its exoskeleton was destroyed. Black ichor stained the ground around it. Even though the unnatural purple light was fading from its eyes, it still had his friend – his brother – clamped in its claw.

“Gurjin, look out!”

Gurjin raised his halberd, spinning just in time to block the claw of the Garthim that had been outside the radius of Amri’s first bomb. Rian rolled away, his leg still streaming blood, and reached for his crossbow. Gurjin heard the sound of another bomb going off a short distance away, and hoped with all his heart that Kylan had managed to send another abomination back to Thra.

The Garthim took another swing, but he blocked this, too, fear and rage building in his heart. He had to get to Amri. He pivoted on his right foot, swinging the halberd low to the ground as he spun, then guiding the axe portion of the weapon into a deadly upper cut. The creature shrieked and flailed, leaving behind a cluster of its legs.

“Get down!” Rian yelled, and Gurjin ducked automatically, rolling on his back to dodge a lunge. Rian pulled the trigger on the crossbow, and with a hiss, a razor-edged bolt flew toward the Garthim’s neck. The creature stumbled on impact, and Gurjin sprinted forward to take another swipe at its legs. Rian reloaded the crossbow, then staggered unsteadily to his feet to take aim once again. He did not miss.

The Garthim fell forward, and Gurjin struck, bringing the spear of the halberd down into its neck with as much force as he could muster. When it could sink no further, he twisted the weapon. Feeling the creature go completely and suddenly still gave him no satisfaction. He pulled his weapon from the creature’s neck, moving quickly away as ichor bubbled up from the wound.

He felt Rian’s hands on his shoulders, pushing him away from the Garthim. “It’s dead. Go, get to Amri.”

“Your leg-”

“Don’t worry about me. Go!”

Gurjin sprinted across the field toward the hulking form of the destroyed Garthim at the edge of the forest. The sounds of battle had grown distant, muffled enough that Gurjin could hear Kylan yelling for him even at a distance. The terror in Kylan’s voice made him run even faster, even though his limbs felt heavy with dread. What if he was dead? What if he _wasn’t_?

When he reached the spot where the Garthim had fallen, Gurjin could finally see Amri, still trapped in the creature’s claw. He swayed, feeling light-headed at the very sight of him. The teeth of the claw were buried in his abdomen and lower back, and his chest – his chest –

He felt himself start to panic as he looked at Amri. Amri, who’d been joking with him only two short hours ago. Who looked at the wide expanse of the Plains with wonder even after all this time above ground. Who was still wide awake despite his injuries and the bomb blast, his dark eyes feral with pain. A Stonewood woman was holding his head still, trying to distract him from the sight of his own ruined body.

Gurjin was frozen again. He had never seen so much blood.

Suddenly, Kylan was in front of him, blocking Amri from sight. “Look at me, Gurjin.”

Gurjin looked down, locking eyes with Kylan. He became aware of the tears running down his face. Kylan was covered in Amri’s blood, and shaking – but there was something firm about him that reminded him of strength, of Naia.

Naia. She would never forgive him. It was his fault Amri had been distracted, his fault Amri was like this-

Kylan put his hands on Gurjin’s shoulders, pulling him out of his head. “This is bad. Okay? It’s bad. But you have to snap out of it and get over there.”

Gurjin shook his head, terrified. “I’m not skilled enough for this.”

“He’s bleeding out, and you’re the only healer we’ve got.”

“He needs my mother, not me. I can’t-”

“You’re all he has. You have to be what he needs.” Kylan squeezed his shoulder. “Right now, Gurjin.”

Gurjin leaned into his friend’s grip and took three deep breaths. It was all he could allow himself. “Okay,” he mumbled, wiping at his eyes. He didn’t want Amri to see him crying. “Okay. Help me keep him still.” Kylan nodded decisively, turned away, and loped back over to Amri.

Gurjin followed him through the trail of slick gore, doing his best to keep his emotions in check. His mother had always said he lacked the detachment necessary for healing. Naia’s cool stoicism was part of what made her ideal for the job, and Gurjin wished he had more of her control. He couldn’t stop a few more tears from leaving his eyes as he got a good look at the damage, so instead he focused on staying calm, as clinical as possible.

Amri was suspended in the air at the height of Gurjin’s waist. His right leg dangled toward the ground at an odd angle, twisted too far inward and completely limp except for the quivering of the spasms of pain wracking his body. His right hip was lodged in the joint of the creature’s claw. Judging by the angle of Amri’s leg, Gurjin was certain there was damage to his hip joint or pelvic bone. It was too close to his spine for comfort, but Gurjin didn’t want to think about that yet. Amri’s chest was the more pressing issue.

Gurjin finally looked up at the Grottan. Amri’s eyes were locked on him. “I wasn’t going to let them take me,” he said, shaking in the Stonewood woman’s grasp. His voice was little more than a whisper, and even saying that much seemed to exhaust him.

Kylan stepped in behind the Stonewood woman, taking over for her to keep Amri’s head supported, and to keep his line of sight restricted. “Of course you weren’t.”

As Amri gasped for breath, Gurjin quickly inspected his face and neck. Amri’s cheeks were covered in cuts from the blast, but his eyes looked relatively unscathed. Gurjin was more worried about the hints of blood on his tongue and teeth.

Gurjin placed a hand on Amri’s right shoulder, closing his eyes and slipping into the trance required for dream-healing. He could hear Kylan talking to Amri, doing his best to keep him calm, and was grateful for it. He spread his consciousness through Amri’s body, taking stock of the damage.

It was immense. The entire left side of Amri’s rib cage was shattered. His left collarbone, right hip joint and a portion of his pelvic bone were also broken. His left lung had been punctured by a fragment of bone and had collapsed. The sharp ridges of the creature’s claw had entered his body in two places – first, in his mid-back, and second in his abdomen. One of Amri’s kidneys was severely damaged, and his intestines had been compromised. He was bleeding internally, and the Garthim’s claw had sliced him from navel to shoulder, a jagged, weeping line of torn skin and sinew.

When Gurjin opened his eyes again, there were uncontrolled tears streaming down his cheeks. Amri was coughing up blood, fixated on him. Gurjin didn’t like that his eyes that were starting to look unfocused. “Return me to Thra, Gurjin,” he begged, his voice hoarse and resigned.

“Amri, no,” Kylan gasped, alarmed. Amri shook hard in his hands, gritting his teeth.

Gurjin stepped directly in front of Amri, eye to eye, and interrupted him. “No. You’re not allowed to give up. You’ve never been a quitter, don’t start now.” He placed a hand gently on the right side of Amri’s body, and took one of Amri’s hands in his, sending him a few hurried memories of Sog and their family. Of Naia. “I’m going to do what I can. I’m going to fight, so you need to fight. Okay?”

Amri clung to his hand. “Okay,” he breathed, his eyes even bigger than normal with the pain. “But if-”

Gurjin squeezed his hand, hating himself for the promise he was about to make. “If there’s nothing I can do, I’m not going to to let you suffer, brother. I promise.”

He didn’t wait to hear Amri’s reply. Instead, he tuned out all of the activity around them, focusing only on following the rivers of Amri’s body and damming the floods where he could. Amri’s heart was beating too fast, struggling to circulate the little air he was able to take in. Gurjin passed over the fragments of bone that littered the left side of his chest, instead sending blue fire forward to fill the puncture in Amri’s lung. It wasn’t strong, but it would hold. He waited, hoping it would be enough to provide relief. Then, Amri’s lung inflated partially, as much as his destroyed rib cage would allow. It was enough, Gurjin thought, and all he could ask of his limited skill.

Amri’s heartbeat strengthened along with his increased air supply. Gurjin opened his eyes, momentarily disoriented as he came back to himself. Amri was pulling in great, rattling lungfuls of air. Kylan was steady as ever, softly singing an old Grottan lullaby. Kylan’s song appeared to be working – he was successfully keeping Amri awake and as distracted as possible. Gurjin felt heartened that the puddle of blood around them had stopped growing, at least, but he was daunted by the next task ahead of them.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to find Rian and a group of Vapran and Stonewood warriors standing around them, all staring at Amri with wide eyes. Rian’s pants were slick with blood. He’d tied a strip of cloth above his wound to slow the bleeding and, although his leg was shaking with the effort, he was standing. Gurjin bent to examine his leg – this, at least, was something he could fix – but Rian brushed him off. “No. Focus on him.”

“We’ve got to get him out of that claw,” Gurjin said, softly, hoping Amri was too focused on Kylan to hear him. “His rib cage is shattered, but I can’t do anything about that. There’s too much to fix and I’m not... We’ve got to get him back to Sog.”

Rian listened to Kylan’s song, one that he’d no doubt heard from Deet, and looked back to Gurjin. “What do you need? How can we help?”

He glanced at the six warriors standing nearby. “We’ll have to keep him steady, or the broken bones might puncture something else.” Gurjin mopped his face. “His hip is broken, and there’s two more deep wounds. One in his back, and one below his stomach. There’s organ damage… I’ll need to heal what I can as we go to keep the bleeding under control.”

Rian nodded and took charge. He pointed at two of the Stonewood guards. “You two, get the armaligs back in the cart, and bring it as close as you can. We’ll have to lift him in once we’ve got him free.” They nodded, then ran ahead to follow orders. “The rest of you – come and help hold him up.” At any other time, Gurjin might have smiled to see Rian acting so much like his father. Now, he only felt weary.

Gurjin and Rian helped the other Gelfling to find positions around Amri that would best support him without further compromising his chest injuries. Amri’s eyes followed Gurjin the whole time, glassy and dull. The Stonewood woman Amri had been helping before he’d been injured remained faithfully at his side, disregarding her own injury as she helped to support his head. Kylan had his arms under Amri, supporting the right side of his torso with assistance from a Vapran paladin. The others gathered around his legs, careful not to put pressure on his broken hip joint.

Finally, Gurjin and Rian knelt in front of Amri. “We’re going to get you out of this thing,” Rian told him, sounding much more confident than Gurjin felt. “And then we’re taking you home. You’ll be back in the Great Smerth before you know it.” Amri reached out for Rian’s hand. The two of them closed their eyes, lost in a dreamfast. Rian smiled as he pulled away, but it looked forced. “Don’t worry about that now,” he assured him. “We’ll take care of it.” Gurjin wondered what Amri had been showing him. Rian’s smile faded quickly as he looked to Gurjin. He looked shaken.

Gurjin leaned down as well, on eye level with Amri. “Do you have any sedatives in your box of tricks back in the cart, Shadowling?” His belt pouch had been all but destroyed by the Garthim’s attack.

“Nothing. Just the salve,” he managed to answer. The sound of battle finally ceased, and Gurjin could hear the rest of the Gelfling cheering from a distance. He barely felt any relief that the fight had finally come to a close – he was too worried about what they were about to do. Amri looked rapidly back and forth between Gurjin and Rian, fear plain in his eyes. “How bad am I?”

Gurjin didn’t want to answer that. “Not as bad as you could be.” He was proud that his voice remained firm. “I’d rather you be able to sleep through this part, though.”

Amri clamped his eyes shut, gritting his teeth as he shivered. “Just do it fast, then.”

Rian squeezed Amri’s forearm gently. “We will. Gurjin?” Gurjin reached out and helped Rian to stand back up and take his place at the top of the claw. Rian and another Stonewood man grabbed each end of the pincers, and Gurjin returned his hands to Amri’s side.

With a deep breath, Gurjin sank back into the healing trance, pushing blue fire to surround the wounds in his mid-back and abdomen. The two Stonewood began to slowly pry the claw apart, and as they succeeded in loosening its grip, Gurjin felt Amri stiffen. He’d known what was coming, but knowing it was different than hearing it. Amri was instinctively shying away from the pain, struggling against the hold of the Gelfling around him. He was screaming now, strengthened by his renewed air supply, but Gurjin pressed on. He couldn’t stop. There were too many floods opening up as the claw was pulled away, too many chances for failure. He couldn’t afford to pay any attention to Kylan and Rian begging Amri to remain still, couldn’t feel bad about the pain this was causing him. They had to free him from the Garthim’s grasp if they’d have any chance at getting him home. He could only do his best to keep his brother alive, and so, he sent his consciousness deeper.

* * *

Rian could feel the claw catching as they tried to pull it from Amri’s body. To Rian, it felt like they were causing more damage instead of helping. Especially with Amri screaming the way he was. Rian was no stranger to such sounds. Still, he hadn’t heard them from someone he cared for since it all began. Amri’s cries were filling his ears, but the ghost of Mira’s voice was filling his memory just as clearly and horribly as if it had been yesterday. He could hardly stand it – but Amri needed them, so he had to.

Rian could barely look at him. His eyes reminded Rian so much of Deet’s, wide and dark and deep. Rian didn’t know what he’d do if he ever saw Deet in this much pain. He hated that there was nothing he could do to make it better, to save his friend from this moment.

Most of all, he hated that Amri was focused on others even as he lay there, broken and bleeding. Rian was certain that Amri knew how unlikely it was that he’d make it home. He was afraid, Rian could see that clearly – but he was also brave. Braver by far than Rian had been back in the Hunter’s clutches, one breath away from oblivion. In the dreamfast, Amri had sent him insistent images of his workshop and rambling thoughts about where spare ingredients were stored. He’d shown Rian a list of instructions for how to make the _bola_ bombs, as well as flashes of locations where he’d been trying to cultivate certain cave plants, and asked him to pass the knowledge on to Deet.

Then, so fast Rian wasn’t sure Amri had intended to show him, flashes of two adolescent Grottans chasing one another through the Great Smerth, accompanied by a fierce sense of protection and responsibility. Another flash – Naia, this time, as Rian had never seen her. Smiling, relaxed – happy. Rian recognized the overwhelming love that came along with this memory – he felt the same way about Deet. He’d hated the regret and longing Amri felt just before pulling his hand away. It lingered in Rian’s mind, even now.

Naia. Rian didn’t even want to think about what this would do to her. He imagined her at home in Sog, unburdened, unknowing, and wished she could stay that way. He remembered how he’d felt, watching Mira die, knowing she was gone and there was nothing he could do – if there was anything he could do to protect Naia from having to face that pain, he’d do it without question.

Suddenly, Amri went quiet. He glanced at Gurjin, who was still deep in a trance, blue fire pouring from his hands. “Kylan-” Rian began, bracing for the worst.

Everyone went still. Rian struggled to see Amri’s chest over the bulk of the pincers. Lahni, the Stonewood woman supporting Amri’s head, placed her fingers against his neck. “He’s fainted, I think.”

Kylan had gone pale. “I can feel him breathing,” he confirmed. “But he doesn’t look good, Rian. We need to hurry.”

Rian nodded, determined to get Amri free as quickly as possible. “Well, it’s a small blessing.” He motioned to the one-eyed castle guard who was helping him open the claw. “Slow and steady, Tallis. Let’s get this over with.” The two of them continued to push the claw apart.

Amri’s chest came free, and Rian didn’t like the look of it one bit. His entire left side looked unnatural, and his torso was torn from shoulder to hip, deep enough that Rian could see wet, torn muscle and glimpses of bone. In the quiet, Rian could hear the armalig cart approaching, the rustle of the wind through the tall grasses. Rian almost wished that Amri was still screaming – the hush unnerved him.

The rest of the guards arrived, and he could hear their shocked murmuring as they watched the gruesome scene before them. A few of them came to help, assisting Rian and Tallis with the claw and providing additional support beneath Amri’s lower body. Finally, the teeth came free of Amri’s back and lower abdomen. Tallis, Rian, and the others guided the claw to the ground as the others shuffled away, slowly moving Amri toward the cart.

“Get him over here,” someone called. Rian looked over his shoulder – two of the paladins had draped their cloaks on the ground near the cart, a clean space among the vestiges of the Garthim’s gore.

Gurjin walked along with them, still lost in his trance, his brow furrowed with concentration. Rian didn’t much like the look of him, either. He was already pale and wan, and the amount of blue fire flowing from his hands concerned Rian. He’d seen Naia do this before – but her hands always looked as if they were merely glowing, and the flow of power was never so noticeable as it was now. He knew that Amri’s injuries were worse than anything he’d ever watched Naia heal, and that Gurjin was unpracticed – still, the amount of energy Gurjin was sending forward concerned him. What would they do if Gurjin collapsed right along with Amri?

Rian watched as the group of Gelfing gently laid Amri on top of the cloaks. He was bleeding again. While his abdomen wasn’t so bad, large amounts of blood were coming from the wound on his back. Gurjin and Kylan kneeled next to him, and Lahni and Kylan worked together to try and staunch the bleeding from his back. Rian forced himself to turn away and looked to those who had helped him move the claw. “Alright. Change in plans.” He saw a glint in the grasses nearby and started to move toward it. The others followed. “I want three of you to continue to Cera-Na and the Wellspring. Get a message to the _maudren_ back at camp to let them know what’s happened. We’ll need another apothecary on the Southern Line, at least for a while.” Rian didn’t allow himself to think that it might be permanent. He refused to acknowledge that possibility. “The rest of you should round up the landstriders. We need to get the supplies to Sami Thicket, at least, or all the way to Sog.”

Rian paused as he reached the place where he’d seen the light of the newly risen First Sister glinting off of something in the dirt. He reached down, stumbling a bit as his injured leg protested, and reached for Amri’s sword. It was covered in ichor, and seeing this gave Rian a sudden sense of calm. Amri’s dreamfast had scared him, made him feel like Amri was about to give up. The bloodied sword reminded Rian that Amri had always been a fighter. Deet had told him about growing up back in Grot. She’d told him about how Amri always wanted to learn more and see more, and how he’d always wanted to leave the caves. He’d seen the change in Amri himself, over the years. He may be timid at times, but he was never afraid to fight back, and he certainly never gave up when things got difficult. Rian tucked the sword under his arm and stood. His injured leg burned with the effort, but Rian pushed the pain aside.

“Tallis, go and help the others get Amri into the cart,” he instructed. “I’d like you and Lahni to accompany Kylan and Gurjin south. They’ll need the help.”

“And you, Captain?” Tallis asked. Rian didn’t think he would ever get used to being addressed as such, especially not from an old palace guard that was his senior by several trine. That was his father’s title, and Rian still wasn’t sure he’d earned it.

“I’m riding ahead to Sog,” he said, decisive. Maudra Laesid needed to know what to expect. So did Naia.

* * *

Kylan refused to leave Amri’s side. He kept his head in his lap, and even though Amri was sleeping again, blacked out from the pain, he kept on singing. He wasn’t even sure if it was for Amri anymore – he thought it might be the only way to keep himself calm.

Gurjin had surfaced from his trance only once in the last few hours, just long enough to take several gulps of water from his water skin. He’d then rotated Amri’s hip back into the correct position and continued his healing. Amri, though, had woken several times since they’d left the edge of the Dark Wood. While Tallis was trying to keep the cart on the steadiest course, the path was not always gentle. Each time the cart jostled, Amri cried out. Kylan felt helpless each time he had to listen to his friend wailing. He’d tried, but there was nothing he could do but hold him tight until the pain overwhelmed him again. Prior to leaving, Kylan had found a small box in the crate Amri had stored the _bola_ bombs in. The box contained limited amounts of herbs and powders. Inside, he’d recognized a familiar powder from roots grown in Sami Thicket which could be combined with water and used as a painkiller, and he’d given Amri a heavy dose. It had done nothing.

Kylan had long since lost sight of Rian, who was riding ahead on a landstrider. Gurjin remained in a trance at Amri’s side in the back of the cart, but his _vliyaya_ had turned soft, a weak blue glow instead of the raging fire it had been back at the wood’s edge. Kylan was starting to worry about Gurjin. He was as pale as Naia had been all those trine ago on the way to the Crystal Desert, and he looked more tired than Kylan had ever seen him.

Kylan couldn’t argue that whatever he was doing was working, albeit slowly. The puncture wounds in Amri’s abdomen had sealed some time ago, leaving behind angry patches of bright pink skin and bloodstains. The jagged edges of Amri’s chest wound looked slightly better, but the cavern in Amri’s chest was still open. The wound had stopped weeping blood, but Kylan was concerned about infection. He and Lahni had spread a blanket over Amri to keep the insects away, but with wounds of this magnitude, Kylan knew that it was only a matter of time before they started to fester.

Kylan tore his eyes from Amri’s pale face to check the sky again. The Third Sister had finally risen, and Kylan was thankful for her presence. He remembered Amri’s request for a song back in Cera-Na, and began singing Gyr’s ancient tale about the sister moons, hoping that Amri could hear it and that it would soothe him. The Plains spread out around them, miles and miles of prairie grass, uninterrupted by the telltale mound of a Garthim’s shell. He hoped their luck would hold, and that the guards they’d left behind would be spared from further encounters, as well.

Kylan could see the snowy peaks of the Grottan Mountains to his left, and to his right, the barest outline of the coastal foothills of the Claw Mountains. By his estimation, they’d reach Sog in the small hours before the first sun dawn. He wished they could go faster, but the armaligs were already being pushed to their limit, and they’d have to slow down as the Plains began to change into marshland.

Amri gasped, and Kylan brought his mind back into rapid focus. Amri was grasping at his chest, and Kylan pulled his hands away. It didn’t take much effort to hold his arms down – Amri was much too weak to put up a struggle.

Amri groaned. His eyes opened slowly. The effort was nearly too much for him. This made Kylan feel nervous – Amri needed to hang on until they could get him to Maudra Laesid, but what if he couldn’t? He’d asked Kylan and Lahni to end it and send him back to Thra multiple times, usually when he was most lucid and could feel the pain most acutely. Kylan understood these requests, what with the amount of pain Amri must be in, but he’d never carry it out. Not unless he knew there was no hope. Kylan felt panic bubbling in his lungs, stealing his breath away. What if all of Gurjin’s efforts were for nothing? What if Amri couldn’t last in this condition, after all?

“You’re singing the moon song,” Amri whispered, his voice ragged and frail. His eyes locked on Kylan’s, and Kylan pushed his fear away, determined to be steady for his friend.

“Well, it’s your favorite, right?” Kylan asked, giving him a wavering smile.

Amri tried for him. His lips turned up at the corners for just a moment, but he was much too tired for it to reach his eyes. “No. My favorite is the morning song.” He rested for a long moment, perpetually out of breath. “We sing it. Me and Embryn and Cade. Every day.”

Kylan knew of the Grottan custom, but he and Naia hadn’t been in the caves long enough to witness the dawn of a new day. “I don’t know it,” he admitted, regretful. “But we’ll be in Sog by the sunrise. Embryn and Cade can teach me, and the three of us can sing it with you. I bet Naia and Gurjin will join in, too. What do you think?”

Amri blinked up at him, his eyes glazing over in pain once again as the cart rattled along beneath them. “Naia won’t sing,” he muttered. “Gurjin would.” His eyes wandered, looking first from the moons and then to Gurjin’s pale face at his side. “He should stop trying,” Amri said, defeated as he looked back up at Kylan.

“We’re not giving up on you,” Kylan insisted, his voice sharp.

Amri didn’t seem to notice. Kylan remembered when they’d first met back in the caves, when he’d been unable to discern where Amri was looking with his huge, dark eyes. Remembered how it had seemed he saw everything, all at once. It felt like that again. Amri was far away, distracted, staring up at the stars in the sky. Was he seeing everything, or was he seeing nothing? Kylan couldn’t tell.

“Amri, stay with me. Keep talking to me.”

Amri squeezed his hand. “I want to go home,” he murmured. His eyes slid shut, and Kylan thought perhaps he was too tired to keep them open.

“We’re not far now,” Kylan lied, nudging him gently to try and keep him awake and alert. “Come on, Amri. Stay awake.”

He didn’t reply.

* * *

Gurjin felt exhausted, spent, and off-kilter. He felt his hands leave Amri’s body as he slumped sideways, hitting the deck of the cart with a soft thud. Gurjin dragged his eyes open and stared up at the Stonewood guard – Lahni, Rian had called her – who was leaning over him. She looked just as anxious as Gurjin had felt all night, but the concern wasn’t for Amri, this time. It was for him.

“How are you feeling?” she inquired tentatively, helping him to sit upright once more.

“Better than Amri is,” Gurjin mumbled, wiping his hands down his face. He looked up to see Kylan sitting nearby with Amri’s head in his lap. The Spriton man was still singing, after all these hours of traveling, seemingly calm and in control. Still, Gurjin couldn’t help but notice the tear tracks on his face, and the hoarse quality of his voice. “Has he taken a break?” he asked, closing his eyes as the world seemed to spin.

Lahni shook her head. “He won’t leave him. I’ve stopped trying to get him to rest.” The woman was favoring her injured arm, but she still managed to throw one of the spare cloaks over Gurjin’s shoulders. “You need a break. You look terrible.” She gave him a kind smile, and Gurjin was thankful that she didn’t seem offended when he didn’t return it. He didn’t have the energy left to do anything but sit and stare at Amri’s broken body. Lahni passed him his water skin, and patted him on the arm. “Drink this. I’m going to get you something to eat.”

He waved his hand through the air. “It’s alright. I won’t be able to keep it down, anyway.” He sipped slowly, knowing that if he tried to drink too fast he’d just feel more nauseated than he already did. She nodded, then stood up to join Tallis on the driver’s bench, granting Gurjin the much-needed illusion of privacy.

Gurjin tried not to dwell on all of the things he hadn’t been able to fix. He tried to be grateful that he’d been able to accomplish what he could with his limited skill set. It was difficult though. Amri’s skin had gone moon-pale, like ashes curling in a fire. The only spots of color were on his cheeks, a flushing born of fever.

There was bright, fresh blood leaking sluggishly from the puncture wound on his back. No amount of pressure would staunch it, and no amount of healing would help this particular wound. Gurjin hadn’t been able to save Amri’s kidney. The damage was too great, and despite his best attempt, he’d had to make a choice in the end. He’d chosen to battle the infection raging through Amri’s veins for as long as possible instead of spending valuable energy trying to save a kidney that would, at best, have severely impaired function. The infection was the greater enemy, now. Gurjin had kept it at bay for several hours – he just hoped it was long enough to make it home, to get Amri into the hands of more capable healers before it spread to the dying organ.

He listened to the last bars of Kylan’s song – a familiar one about the Six Sisters – and allowed himself a moment to rest and gather his thoughts. There was still work to do, but Amri was resting quietly now, and Gurjin didn’t want to disrupt him. Amri could use all the rest he could get. Gurjin had heard him sobbing occasionally through the haze of the healing trance, had watched his body shudder from the inside. Gurjin never wanted to see or hear anything like it ever again.

Kylan’s voice trailed off, and for a moment, all Gurjin could hear was the wind rushing by and the hiss of the grasses below. He thought about that morning, when he and Amri had ridden atop the armalig harnesses, whooping and celebrating the wind through their hair and the warmth of the suns on their backs. Amri had looked so happy, so carefree. He would give anything to go back to that moment.

“What happened?” Kylan finally asked. “He started trying to claw at his side earlier. Lahni and I had to hold him down again. And you looked so sick, Gurjin… we weren’t sure if we should stop you, or-”

Gurjin glanced up, focusing on Kylan. Kylan had been skittish once, quicker to fear than any of the rest. The last few trine had changed that, but Gurjin could see his old self now, barely contained below the surface. He’d been holding it together because he had to, but Gurjin could see his hands shaking.

He moved slowly to Kylan’s side, wincing as his legs protested after being in one position for so long. “I couldn’t save his kidney,” he admitted, shamed to say it out loud. “My mother might have been able to do it, but…” He leaned his head onto Kylan’s shoulder, exhausted.

“What does that mean, exactly? For Amri?”

Gurjin stared down at Amri. His breathing was labored, his chest looked entirely wrong, and Gurjin felt helpless now that his healing magic was spent. How had Kylan been able to stand this for all these hours? “It’ll have to be removed. He’s lucky the Garthim missed the other side, or we’d have had to – I’d have had to-” His throat felt dry as the Crystal Desert, and he couldn’t say the rest.

Kylan wrapped an arm around him, pulling the cloak more securely around his shoulders. “Better you than the Garthim or the Skeksis,” he whispered, a fierce conviction behind his words. “If I was in the same position, I’d rather it be you. It would be a kindness.”

Gurjin knew it. It didn’t make thinking about it any easier. He cleared his throat and straightened up, bracing himself. Now that everything had stopped spinning, he looked around, trying to orient himself in the middle of the featureless plains. “Do you know how far we are from Sog?” he asked. The Sisters had already reached their zenith, but the predawn glow of the first Rose Sun hadn’t yet begun to light the sky behind the Grottan Mountains.

Kylan shifted, doing his best not to move Amri too much as he followed Gurjin’s gaze. “Four hours, at least. We’re just starting to see marshland.”

“Has he been sleeping long?”

“About an hour, this time. I thought I should let him rest.” Kylan took a deep, shuddering breath, and Gurjin reached out to clasp his forearm to offer what comfort he could. Kylan clung to him tightly.

“We’ll have to wake him, soon,” Gurjin breathed, hating himself already. “I’ve got to close him up.”

Kylan froze. “What do you mean, close him up?”

Gurjin crouched and moved shakily toward the crate, where the last of Amri’s healing salve was stored. “There’s the insects to think about. The blanket will keep some of them out, but not all of them, not once we reach Sog. Not with the way he smells.” He removed the lid and pulled out the jars, feeling apprehensive. “If nothing else, the smell of this should keep them away instead of attracting them. The infection is already enough to deal with. We don’t need crawlies creeping about.”

Kylan glanced at Lahni and Tallis. “Should we stop the cart?”

Gurjin shook his head. “No, we need to get to Sog as soon as possible.” He shook a jar and walked back to his place at Amri’s side. “This isn’t a fix. Amri says it shouldn’t be used on deep wounds at all.”

“Then why are you using it?”

He pushed aside the nagging feeling of inadequacy that threatened to overwhelm him. “I’m just hoping the good outweighs the bad. It’s not a long-term solution, but that’s not the point. It’s just got to keep the wound sealed and keep the infection at bay until we get him home.”

Kylan considered it for a long time. It was fascinating, Gurjin thought, watching Kylan think. He was always so reserved, so controlled, unless you looked at his eyes. They were expressive, and Gurjin could see everything Kylan was feeling in them. “I don’t want to hear him screaming anymore, either,” Gurjin whispered.

Kylan looked away, watching the grasses pass by as they rolled on. For the first time all night, he remained silent.

* * *

Lightning danced through him, hot and white and merciless. He felt like a Fireling, deep beneath the earth, a creature of heat and flame – it created him and destroyed him all at once, a cycle with no ending, no beginning. When he opened his mouth, strangled cries emerged, unbidden.

Amri came back to his mind slowly, pulled back into the flames each time the cart bounced. Three people leaned over him, and he had to force his eyes away from the twinkling sky to concentrate on their faces. Kylan looked windswept and forlorn. The Stonewood he’d met on the battlefield had tears in her eyes, and Amri wondered absently if her shoulder was hurting. He thought it must be, with the bumps in the road jostling them all. The sight of Gurjin made him feel worried. His skin was dull and sunken, like that of a fish dried up onshore.

He was talking, but Amri struggled to make sense of the words. His eyes slid shut and he thought he could hear music.

Hands shook him. More lightning, more fire. He fought to lift his eyelids.

“-wake up. You need to stay here. Open your eyes!” It sounded like Kylan, but not the Kylan Amri knew. His Kylan wasn’t demanding. His Kylan never raised his voice, except in song. Was something wrong?

He’d nearly gotten lost in the sea fog once, near Cera-Na. It had been grey, the fog, and so thick that it muffled all sound. Were they near the ocean? Was the fog around him, or inside him?

There was a sudden stench, sharp and sour like nebrie milk gone bad, and the fog receded, replaced by sharp focus and throbbing, piercing pain. He opened his eyes wide, blinking against the bright light of the Sisters in the sky above.

“Amri? Look at me.” He searched the faces above him. Gurjin was leaning over him, holding a jar of Amri’s new, stinking salve in front of his nose. “Can you hear me?”

“Get that out of my face,” Amri moaned, turning his head away from the fumes. He coughed, then gasped as his chest burned anew.

Gurjin gave him a small, relieved smile. “Don’t you scare us like that again,” he threatened, sounding more relieved than angry. Amri caught a glimpse of Kylan’s face – his eyes were wet, and he was shuddering. Amri couldn’t blame him, with that horrible smell in the air, and the cold. It was so cold...

Amri wasn’t sure what he’d done to scare them, but he felt bad all the same. “…’m sorry,” Amri mumbled, coughing again as he got another whiff of the sour, rotting smell.

The jolt made the fire build in his chest – couldn’t anyone else see it burning? He reached up to try and put it out, determined to make it end. Gurjin and Lahni stopped him immediately, pinning his hands to the floor as he writhed, gritting his teeth.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Gurjin whispered, a non-stop litany. “You keep going in and out, but you have to stay awake now. You have to keep breathing, Amri. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s burning,” he groaned, straining against their hold. He watched as Kylan plucked the jar from Gurjin’s grasp, putting the lid back on and shutting out the smell. It wasn’t entirely gone – something still smelled sour to him, though he couldn’t place it – but the air was sharp and clean, and much less thick.

“Gurjin, you should get it over with,” Kylan whispered, wiping furiously at his cheeks. “We’ll keep him awake, you just get it done.”

“I’m not worried about having to keep him awake through this, to be honest,” Gurjin muttered darkly.

Amri examined his face more closely. He was covered in familiar-looking black tar, like the kind that oozed from the Garth-

The fog in his mind vanished completely, driven away by the memory of being trapped in that claw, of bring crushed and torn. He saw the tears on Kylan’s cheeks with fresh eyes, realized that Lahni’s hands were shaking where she held him down.

“What are you getting done?” The tone in his voice must have changed, because Gurjin looked down at him rapidly.

“There you are, brother. You’re with us now.” He squeezed Amri’s hand, but didn’t let it go.

“You look terrible, Gurjin.” Amri recognized that drained look – he’d seen it on Gurjin once before, in Naia’s memories. He felt guilty and confused all at once. Had he caused his friend to look this way?

“You’re one to talk.” Gurjin grinned. It was just a ghost of his usual smile, but it gave Amri a bit of comfort all the same.

“Gurjin!” Kylan reprimanded, looking horrified.

Amri didn’t mind the joke at his expense. Judging by the look on Kylan’s face, they all sorely needed a joke. Still, he didn’t want to know how he looked. He’d caught a few glimpses of his chest after the Garthim had fallen, and even thinking about it filled him with terror. He tried to push the memories away and focused on Gurjin’s eyes. “What are you getting done?” he asked again, focusing on his breath and ignoring the rattling sound that came with every inhale.

Gurjin became serious once more. His face contorted with regret. “I couldn’t close your chest wounds,” he admitted, sounding ashamed. “I’m not Naia or Mother. I had to choose what to heal, and-”

Amri squeezed his hand, understanding. “It’s okay.” And it was. Despite the burning, electric pains shooting through his whole being, he was still alive, somehow. “I’m breathing. You’re keeping me breathing,” he murmured.

Gurjin turned away, scrubbing at his face. Kylan leaned down, crowding Amri’s vision. “You have to stay awake,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “We’re not letting you sleep anymore. We thought we’d lost you.” Kylan sounded angry, but Amri knew him well enough to know that wasn’t it. Kylan only ever got sounded angry when he was worried. If he was truly angry, he was more likely to say nothing at all.

Amri realized that he must have stopped breathing, at some point. Realized that fading away must have been what he’d done to scare them.

Kylan softened a bit. “Only a little longer, and you’ll be home. You just have to hang on.” He brushed Amri’s hair away from his face, holding his gaze. Gurjin still couldn’t look at him, but he tightened his grasp on Amri’s hand. Images blossomed in Amri’s mind, fleeting memories of Amri laughing with Eliona and Pemma around the supper table, and his _bola_ throwing lessons when he’d first arrived in Sog. Bellanji’s deep laughter. He saw himself working in comfortable silence alongside Maudra Laesid as they made medicines in the Sog hospital. She looked at him the same way she looked at her own children – with love, and pride, and occasionally exasperation.

Finally, he saw Naia through Gurjin’s eyes. She looked soft as she watched Amri interacting with his apprentices, as she pulled him in for that kiss in the middle of the village square – had it really only been that morning? She looked vulnerable somehow, from Gurjin’s perspective.

“We’re almost home,” Gurjin promised him, releasing his hand. “So hang on.”

“I’ll try,” he promised them. And he would.

Gurjin finally got hold of his emotions and leaned forward, the jar of salve back in hand. “I know what you said about this being for surface wounds only, but it’s all we’ve got.” He pulled the blanket covering Amri’s chest away. “You’re infected already. I fought it off for as long as I could, but I’ve got nothing left. I know there’s some cleansing plants in here. You mentioned sogflower roots and red-cap spores back in Sami Thicket. Those can help keep the infection from getting worse, and keep the wound sealed as we go through Sog. You’re going to scar regardless. I’m worried leaving the wound open is doing more harm than good, and I’ve got nothing else to pack it with. I think it’s worth the risk, but… it’s your choice.”

Amri absently noted that they’d cut the remains of his shirt away. The air soothed the raging fire in his chest, but his limbs felt like ice. He began to shiver. Resisting the urge to look down at his chest, he considered what Gurjin was asking him. He was starting to feel fuzzy around the edges again as the fog creeped back into his mind, but he was alert enough to remember what had happened when he and Laesid had tested the salve. The sinews knit together much faster than the cleansing elements could eat away the infection, creating pockets of infection throughout the wound site. He remembered the dead, blackened flesh that resulted from letting the infection fester for too long… it was like the Darkening, and spread just as quickly.

“How far to the Great Smerth?” he asked, keening as the cart rolled over uneven ground. Three sets of hands steadied him, and he felt a flare of gratitude that even if he didn’t make it home, at least he’d have friends by his side when his time came.

“Three hours, or so,” Kylan said. “The apeknots are on the horizon, now.”

“How deep is it, Gurjin? What does it look like?”

“You don’t need to know that part,” Gurjin said quickly. Kylan’s hands flew to his forehead, keeping his head immobilized so that he couldn’t look down.

Surprisingly, Lahni answered him, her voice quiet and timid. “We can see bone in some places. Gurjin stopped the bleeding, but the skin is red and swollen looking. Almost like a burn. And you’ve got Garthim blood contaminating the wounds, as well.”

Amri agreed with Gurjin. It was worth the risk. If the salve could fight the infection for even a little while, he might have a chance, after all. He might get to see Naia again, to listen to the rain joining the waters of the swamp. He might get to live.

“Do it,” he said, as decisively as he could manage.

Lahni and Kylan held him steady, and Gurjin unscrewed the jar. Amri took several deep breaths despite the thick, sour air, preparing himself for the pain to come. Finally, as ready as he’d ever be, he nodded.

Gurjin was gentle as possible, but it didn’t matter. He could feel how very deep his wounds were as Gurjin coated them with the thick paste. He could guess the magnitude of the damage as Gurjin emptied not one jar, but two. As soon as the salve began to do its work on the infected tissues surrounding the wound, his body burned anew. It didn’t take long for him to become lost again, for his mind and rational thoughts to hide far away as he transformed once more into a creature of lightning and fire.

* * *

Naia listened to the distant echoes of people yelling in the village square. The hunting parties had still been gone when she’d retired for bed. They weren’t usually this loud when they came back late. Naia was glad she’d already been lying awake – they were certainly being loud enough to wake those living in the lower levels and outer rings of the Great Smerth.

She tuned out the noise and stared out the window at the light of the moons creeping through a break in the the clouds. The blue-green tint bathing the room reminded her of Amri, sitting peacefully in a hammock in her mother’s chamber, reading by the light of the glow moss.

She hated when he was gone. Their room felt so empty without him. She’d never admit it, but she couldn’t sleep when he was away. Naia looked forward to being wrapped in his strong arms every night. She loved coming home at the end of a long day’s work to his bright smile and animated stories. She loved being able to just be herself with him. She didn’t always have to be composed around him. He’d love her and respect her just the same.

She listened to his steady heartbeat on nights like these when she couldn’t turn her mind off. It was soothing, like the sound of the rain falling through the canopy. It reminded her to be steady and dependable, to be for her people what he was for her. His heartbeat was the sound of home. _He_ was home.

She thought about what it would be like to marry him, to finally be able to tell him yes. Tried to imagine what making that promise in front of her clan would feel like. He was a good choice for her people and for the refugees who now called Sog home. He did hold an important position in their fight against the Skeksis, but he was also personable, and he didn’t think he was more important than any other member of the clan. His humble attitude was endearing and genuine, and Naia couldn’t think of a reason why anyone would object to their union. Their relationship represented the times they lived in, after all, the unity and cooperation between clans that had been unheard of only a few trine ago. One day, when she was a maudra in this changed world, he’d be the perfect person to stand by her side. But that was precisely why she hesitated to marry him. She didn’t want her rank to turn their union into a symbol of hope for the people. Gurjin and Seladon already had to juggle that particular pressure with little Kira. Naia wanted nothing to do with it.

Her family had embraced Amri as one of their own long ago. She loved him for him, not because he was a good choice for the clan. She loved him because he was a good choice for _her_. She wanted him – body and soul. He made her happy. He made her laugh as no one else ever had. She’d always been complete in herself, but with him standing beside her, she felt even more so. She wanted to marry him. Truly, she did. Still, she wanted it to be for love, and love alone – not because they were in the middle of a war.

A knock interrupted her thoughts, and she frowned at the door briefly before rolling out of bed. She was only rarely summoned during the early hours of the morning, usually when her mother was away. She quickly pulled a light dressing gown on over her nightdress and cinched the tie around her waist, moving toward the door. Her ears flicked back toward the window, and she paused as she registered a new sound among all the voices – someone was wailing. Had one of the pregnant women begun to labor?

She pulled the door open, expecting to see a nervous husband, and paused as she recognized the individual on the other side. “Rian?” she asked, confused. “What are you doing here?” He was the person she’d least expected to see in Sog, let alone in the middle of the night.

He stepped forward into the Sisters’ light, and Naia took in a sharp breath. He looked ragged. His hair was windswept and tangled, and his usually tawny skin was pale. There were heavy bags under his eyes, his clothes were caked in Garthim ichor, and his right pant leg was covered in blood. He was definitely favoring his right leg, but the blood appeared to be long-dried.

“What happened to you?” she breathed, immediately kneeling to try and examine his leg. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

He tugged her back up, holding her hand tight. “Don’t worry about that now,” he said irritably, brushing her concern aside.

“I’ll worry about it if I want to,” she retorted. “Don’t tell me not to help you when you turn up in the middle of the night with a bloody leg, Rian.”

“You need to go down to the field hospital right away.” He exhaled heavily, squaring his shoulders as if he was gathering courage.

She heard it again, the wailing – a sound like a wounded animal.

“It’s Amri,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading another installment of “Crunchwrap Supreme” (this nickname is courtesy of orange_yarn and it is a FANTASTIC description of what happened to our poor cave bro). Thank you to all of my buddies on Discord for cheering me on through this (and for the hilarious organ jokes and emojis).
> 
> In all seriousness, thanks for sticking through the angst of this fic. I know it’s heavy - the “injury recovery” portion comes next, I promise ;)
> 
> For those who like music, here’s this chapter’s inspiring tunes:  
> -Lights in My Mind by Gelka, Forteba, Sam Brookes  
> -Our Remains (Acoustic) by Beta Radio  
> -Heaven I Know by Gordi  
> -In the Byre by Goldmund  
> -Stand By Me by Florence & The Machine  
> -Krwling (Mike Shinoda Reanimation) [feat. Aaron Lewis] by Linkin Park


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naia's mother takes charge of healing Amri while Naia struggles with her inability to take action in the face of her loved one's injuries.

_…there is a design, an alignment…_

_-Sigh No More, Mumford & Sons_

* * *

The Great Smerth loomed out of the darkness, a monolith above the empty boardwalks of the swamp. Gurjin felt some comfort at the sight of soft, flickering candlelight coming from some of the windows carved into the great tree. They’d done it. They’d managed to get him home.

A group of Drenchen healers were already waiting in front of the hospital. They were all familiar faces. Some of them had been teachers when he and Naia had learned how to dream-heal. Others had learned alongside them. All of them were far more talented than he was, and Gurjin felt a rush of relief that Rian had insisted on riding ahead. He’d never been happier to see all of them gathered in one place.

Tallis brought the armalig cart to a stop and the healers immediately started forward, some climbing into the cart while others passed a woven stretcher up to them. Kylan and Lahni stepped back, making room. Amri had been sobbing for the last hour, out of his mind with pain as they’d moved along the uneven ground and over stretches of rough boardwalk throughout the swamp, and he hardly seemed to notice that the cart had stopped moving. He was looking up at the canopy, but Gurjin knew he wasn’t actually seeing it.

Eliona knelt next to him as the others positioned the stretcher on Amri’s far side. She reached out to hug Gurjin. “Rian showed us what happened,” she whispered. “But seeing him like this in person… and you. You look-” She paused and searched his face, then turned away. He didn’t have to guess what she was thinking. He knew he had the look of those who had been drained. Maybe he looked that way because he had been, once. Her expression was grim as she pulled away, surveying the bloody deck of the cart and the shape of Amri’s chest beneath the blanket. “Mother sent Rian up to wake Naia.” She paused. “Maybe he hasn’t gotten to her yet. It might be better to try and keep her away, instead…”

“No. She should know.” He grimaced. “She’d never forgive us, otherwise. And once she knows, nobody will be able to keep her away. Maybe not even Mother.” Gurjin glanced around at the group of healers and held up a hand. “Let me show you lot what’s damaged before we move him.” Four hands rose to meet his.

The dreamfast was quick. Gurjin opened his eyes to find the others staring at him, shock clear on their faces. “I did the best I could.” It sounded like an excuse, and he was embarrassed by his lack of skill.

Eliona squeezed his shoulder. “You did well, Gurjin,” she assured him. “You kept him alive.” She turned away from her brother. “Alright, everyone. Let’s get him inside.” She was shaken by Amri’s condition, but still level-headed and all business, just like their mother. Just like Naia. Gurjin felt proud of her as she took command.

“Gurjin.” He turned away from the others toward his mother’s voice. She was standing just behind the cart, firm as ever. He relaxed at the sight of her, his shoulders free of the great weight he’d been carrying. “Come down. The others will move him,” she insisted, holding out a hand.

Gurjin looked back at the injured Grottan. Kylan was back at his head again, next to Eliona. The two of them were soothing him, keeping him distracted as the rest of the healers prepared for the most difficult part – transferring him from the cart to the hands of the other healers, waiting below on the boardwalk. Satisfied that Kylan would stay at Amri’s side, just as he’d done throughout the entire long night, Gurjin climbed down.

He landed next to his mother on shaking legs, and she reached out to steady him. Her hands were glowing already, and though he felt soothed as she touched his face, he brushed her away. “I’m alright. It’s Amri who needs you, not me.”

“Don’t argue with your _maudra_ ,” she told him, placing a hand on his cheek once again and bringing her forehead to his. He closed his eyes reluctantly, breathing with her as the cool surge of her _vliyaya_ filled his body. It was quick, just a few breaths. Still, when she pulled away, he felt better. His fatigue was still there, beneath the surface, but he felt a little less like a dry spring and more like himself.

Her hands stopped glowing, and she pulled him away from the group of healers and into the hospital. It was located in a cluster of hollowed apeknots and open-air boardwalks a short distance from the village square. Fine netting covered the boardwalk sections to keep insects out, but the nets did nothing to contain sound. Behind them, Amri’s keening echoed off the trees and canopy, louder in the hush of the swamp than it had seemed out in the Plains. They’d begun to move him.

Gurjin knew it was a good thing that he was stable enough to remain conscious through this move. Still, this was much worse than his screaming during the ride here. He hardly even sounded like a Gelfling, anymore. He hoped with everything he had that Rian hadn’t reached Naia yet. He didn’t want to remember these sounds, and he hoped she wouldn’t have to, either.

Laesid led him to a room toward the back of the hospital. It was private – a portion of the apeknot tree had fallen away, allowing fresh air to cycle in and out of the dark space, and for the occupants to look out over the swamp during the day. Now, though, it was lit with a soft blue glow, just like that within the _maudra_ ’s chamber inside the Great Smerth. His mother was a hard woman, but not an unkind one. The glow moss would be a comfort to Amri, and Gurjin felt a surge of gratitude toward Laesid for thinking of it.

A table had been prepared in the center of the room. After being surrounded in Garthim gore and the stench of blood for so many hours, the clean space felt entirely foreign to Gurjin. Laesid didn’t seem to care that he was covered in filth. She simply pushed him into a chair and turned down the sheet on the table.

The other healers and Kylan entered the room, Amri wailing between them on the stretcher. They set him onto the table with a grace and efficiency that awed Gurjin. He wondered how many times they’d seen wounds like these, since the beginning of the war, and decided he didn’t want to know.

Laesid pulled the blanket covering Amri’s chest away, revealing the angry line of mottled tissue that had begun to form within the chasm of Amri’s wound. His usually pale chest had turned shades of black, blue and yellow, and the purple bruising around his injured hip looked worse than it had out in the dark Plains. “What did you do?” Laesid demanded. It was a familiar question, one she’d asked him many times when he and Naia were growing up. He felt like a scolded child all over again, but he was so relieved that he’d finally gotten Amri into her safe hands that he didn’t much care.

“What I could. What I had to,” Gurjin breathed. “I couldn’t save his right kidney. It’s probably septic by now, or on the way there. The lung puncture is only partially healed, just enough for him to get air, but I couldn’t do anything more. I couldn’t drain the intestinal cavity, he was bleeding too much everywhere else, so that will need work. His pelvic bone and hip joint are stabilized, but it’s a weak fix, at best. Just enough to keep it from getting any worse. There’s swelling near his lower vertebrae and I haven’t seen him move his legs at all. Not once. I don’t think the spinal cord was compromised, it’s probably just inflammation, but…” Gurjin pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “And I know, I know the salve was a bad idea, alright? I know you’ll just have to open him back up. But it was the only way to fight the infection in his chest. I had nothing left. I was just trying to keep him going long enough to get him here. To you.”

Gurjin’s hands were shaking again, and he didn’t bother to hide them from her. Laesid nodded, moving toward a cabinet on the far wall. “Eliona, Collum – help me with these.” She started to retrieve equipment from the cabinet, tools that Gurjin recognized but which he’d never learned to use. Metals were rare in the swamp, where more natural tools would usually suffice. Still, Laesid kept a small collection of specialized tools in the hospital. Gurjin didn’t balk at the sight of the tiny, sharp knives or the Crystal Skimmer needles, the long-nosed tweezers or any of the rest. Kylan, though, started to panic. Gurjin could see it in his eyes.

“Hard-talk, Gurjin,” his mother reminded him, moving back toward Amri. One of the other healers took her cane and brought her a tall chair, and Laesid settled atop it as she probed his chest wound. “How long ago did you use the salve?”

“Three hours.”

“And the infection? How advanced was it?”

He winced. “It was growing primarily in the chest cavity, but there were traces growing around the kidney wound. It was starting to fester – not decay. Not yet. That’s why I didn’t wait. That and the insects.”

Laesid nodded once, watching as two of the other elder healers inspected the large bruise that was spreading up Amri’s side from his lower back. “You made the right call, Gurjin.”

Amri reached up then, not to claw at his chest but toward the glowing ceiling, blinking rapidly as he groaned. “Kylan? Where…” He seemed to be entering another brief period of lucidity, and Gurjin sprang out of his seat to join the crowd around him.

Kylan still looked panicked, but he gripped his friend’s hand, trying to get Amri to focus on him. “You’re home, Amri. In Sog. Maudra Laesid is here, and Eliona. Naia’s coming, too. She’ll be here any minute.”

Amri shook his head and shivered. “No. I don’t want her to see me like this.” The Grottan’s eyes were locked on the glow above, and he trembled, his hands scraping at the thick woven cloth beneath him.

Maudra Laesid gestured to Eliona, then leaned in, brushing Amri’s hair through her fingers. She’d done this for Gurjin when he was small, back when he’d been afraid of shapes in the darkness of the swamp. How long had it been since Amri had felt a mother’s comforting touch? “She’s a stubborn one, our Naia. We might not be able to keep her away,” she teased. “But we’ll do our best. And you have to keep doing your best, for just a little while longer. Deal?” Eliona handed Laesid two vials, one containing thick, red sogflower wine, and the other containing a blue liquid that Gurjin recognized as a strong sedative made from sogflower pollen and distilled _arara_ slime. “Now, then, my boy,” Laesid said, holding up the blue vial first. “How do you feel about getting a bit of rest, hm?”

Grateful tears leaked out of Amri’s eyes. Laesid tenderly helped him to drink first the sedative, then the wine, and set his head back gently on the healing table.

He turned to face Gurjin. “Remember your promise,” he said, already fading.

Gurjin suddenly felt like he was back in the castle all over again, his blade in the Chamberlain’s gut and his faith broken. He’d already broken one oath. He didn’t want to break another, especially not one that actually mattered, but… “Amri. Don’t make me keep it. You’re going to be fine. You have to be fine, alright?”

But he was already asleep, his eyes closed and his mouth slack, blissfully cut off from the pain that had plagued him since sundown.

Seven sets of hands touched Amri, their hands glowing as brightly as the moss on the ceiling. Gurjin heard Kylan breathing hard and looked up, only to find Kylan fixated on the tray of tools his mother had removed from the cabinet. The Spriton man was barely holding himself together, and Gurjin moved around the healers to join him at his place near Amri’s head.

“I’ll stay with him, Kylan. You don’t have to watch this. It’s not going to be pleasant. You’ve been there for him all night. You can step away now.” He felt a pang in his chest as Kylan sank to his knees next to their friend.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Kylan insisted. “Not until Naia is with him.”

* * *

Naia landed messily near the abandoned armalig cart, nearly losing her footing as she scrambled for traction against the wet planks of the Low Road. Rian’s memories clouded her mind. Visions of Amri – her Amri – impaled on a Garthim’s claw. His skin, pale and delicate looking, like Brea’s pressed paper. The sight of him unconscious, his head cradled in Kylan’s lap, lying in a puddle of blood. Her brother, looking as if he’d seen the Crystal, his hands glowing bright with raw, uncontrolled power.

Rian was still calling her name, stranded on the balcony she’d leapt from in the upper reaches of the Greath Smerth. She felt guilty for leaving him there with his leg in the state it was, but she couldn’t worry about him now. She only had room for Amri. She tuned Rian out, listening desperately through the sound of the rain pounding against the boardwalk. Amri’s cries had gone quiet as she’d run through the halls, searching for the fastest way out. ~~~~

She’d let him leave. She’d told him no. He’d wanted to stay, had asked her to give him a reason to stay, and she hadn’t – she’d refused. She’d told him no, and now… and now she couldn’t hear him, had no idea if he was even still alive.

She barreled through the entrance to the hospital and into the main ward, her nightdress and dressing gown dripping everywhere from her flight through the deluge. The large room was covered with nets to keep out the insects and apeknot leaves to keep out the nighttime rain. She felt frenzied as she ran from one end of the room to the other, scanning every bed, every face.

Patients were scattered all around, but there was no sign of her mother or brother, or Amri. She’d spent her days with these people, doing her best to be a calming, reassuring presence for them while they healed. Now, she was the one who was broken.

She was shivering. She had to think of it as shivering, because if she admitted that it was fear taking over her spine, her heart, her entire being, she didn’t think she’d be able to keep going. Where was he? Why had she let him leave? She could feel her wings shaking, just like her hands – just like the rest of her – sending tiny droplets of water into the air behind her. She tried to calm herself, but even so, she felt her breath quicken, felt the hot tears join the rainwater trailing down her cheeks.

She finally turned, facing all of the wide eyes in the room. They’d recognize him, wouldn’t they? Amri was in and out of the hospital every day, helping Laesid or showing his students how their concoctions worked on real patients… He always made an effort to chat with them, to make them feel at home and safe. They’d have to remember him. “Where did they take him?” she sobbed, barely recognizing her own voice. “The Grottan man? The one who makes medicines?”

A Spriton woman sprang off of the nearest cot and grabbed her hands. All around the room, people were gasping or murmuring his name, realizing just who the injured, screaming man had been.

“Take a breath, miss Naia,” the Spriton said softly, holding her hands tight the same way Naia had for her when she’d first arrived, when she’d been terrified and hurting and in unfamiliar territory. “The other healers are all with him. Let’s just breathe for a moment, and then I’ll show you which direction they took him.”

* * *

The first thing she saw was the ceiling. It was covered in the same glowing blue moss that grew in the _maudra_ ’s chamber, and which had provided light to his first home in Domrak.

Then she saw him.

Amri was unconscious, surrounded by seven of Sog’s best healers. Three of them had their eyes closed and their hands on his body, deep in the healing trance. They’d cut his clothes away, and she froze immediately at the sight of his skin. His usual soft grey-green was dusty white. His legs were covered in tiny cuts, and one of the healers was pulling what looked like tiny pieces of black stone out of the wounds. His right hip was swollen, and a blue and purple bruise spread from the middle of his right thigh all the way to his abdomen. His chest was like a canyon. Naia felt dizzy at the sight. Her mother’s hands were deep inside the chasm of muscle. Naia could see splinters of bone from the light of her mother’s glowing hands, could finally see just how wrong the left side of his body looked. Laesid was setting the shattered pieces of his rib cage – so many pieces – how could he survive something like this? How had he even made it this far?

Her sister, Eliona, and a man named Collum were at Laesid’s side. Naia recognized the tools Collum was using to cut away strips of what looked like blackened flesh. Eliona followed, draining away sickly yellow fluid that was a sure sign of infection. Their hands were were covered in his blood. Naia felt herself sway, and a pair of strong arms caught her.

Her brother’s broad shoulders cut off her view of her lover’s broken body. He was also covered in blood, as well as sticky, stinking Garthim ichor. He looked terrible, similar to the way he’d looked after she and Kylan had rescued him from the Castle of the Crystal three trine ago, except that this time there was still light in his eyes.

Naia’s hands shook, and she felt paralyzed, stuck between the urge to take action – to help the people she loved most in the world – and her fear. A sound, something that echoed of loss and felt like terror, escaped her. She slammed a hand over her mouth, trying desperately to get herself under control as Gurjin squeezed her tight.

“Ssh, Naia. It’s going to be alright,” Gurjin whispered, over and over again. “Mother’s got him now, he’ll be okay.” She shuddered in his arms, and as much as she wanted to believe him, she couldn’t.

“Gurjin – don’t make promises for me when I may not be able to keep them,” Laesid said sharply. Naia felt her heart turn to stone and then crack, as if it might dissolve into sand and be blown away completely.

She broke free of Gurjin’s grip, desperate to get to Amri, to make sure that he stayed where he belonged. Alive. With her. She had to do something, anything. She had to help. She barely noticed Kylan, kneeling by Amri’s head, as she forced herself into the circle of healers scattered around the table. Amri’s rattling, strained breathing pushed all other thoughts from her mind. She’d almost lost him. Could still lose him. Naia closed her eyes and placed her hand against Amri’s cheek. He was cold, so cold, and she struggled to maintain the focus necessary to enter the healing trance. Memories flashed through her mind – his lips on her neck, against her forehead. His arms around her waist that morning, and the feeling of his strong chest against her back. His body wrapped around hers in the quiet of the night, warm and familiar. She thought of all the mornings where she woke up curled against his chest, about all the nights where she listened to his steady heartbeat.

She didn’t know what she’d do if she lost him.

With sheer force of will, she pushed the memories and emotions away and sank into the trance.

Everywhere, veins touching open air had been blocked. It was an unconventional approach, crude and messy, similar to cauterization with a hot blade. The blue light of his vital essence was dim, less of a glow than a flickering spark. She sent her consciousness to the black edges of his chest wound – the skin there was unresponsive, destroyed by the infection within. She could sense the other healers there, battling the darkness that threatened to spread through his body. They were winning the battle, but it was a near thing. His left lung had been punctured, and it was still partially deflated, threatening to collapse again at the slightest provocation. There was a lake of old blood in his abdomen, though no clear source remained, and nowhere near enough blood in the rest of him. So much swelling… too much… It was all too much.

She felt the trance fall away, felt Kylan and Gurjin pulling her back, away from him. She felt disconnected from her body. Something had taken over her. She’d felt it before, in small measure. But this… this was something entirely different. It was as if she was standing on a precipice and looking down at a great, black hole, or else staring ahead at deep purple light. It was grief. Grief was inside her now, threatening to take over her entire body and mind, to drive her out completely.

“Naia.” She sucked in a breath, an automatic reaction after so many trine of training at Laesid’s side. Her mother’s mouth was set in a firm line, but her voice was softer than it had been moments before. “You are either going to be a help or a hindrance. Make the choice. If you can calm down and focus on helping him, you’re welcome to stay. If you cannot, then you’ll leave.”

She wanted to help. She wanted to pour her life into his body, to reverse this harm and stop him from feeling this pain. She wanted to be strong enough to help the others repair the structure that would protect his lungs – his heart. But there was so much damage, and she couldn’t – she didn’t know how to –

“A hindrance, then,” Laesid murmured. “Kylan, get her out of here. Gurjin, stay and help me. I’ll need you here to reverse what you did to stop the hemorrhaging,” Laesid ordered.

Kylan pulled Naia away from the table. She struggled against his grip, desperate to get back to Amri. Kylan’s grip – once so gentle – was firm. As he dragged her out of the room and down the hall, she absently thought about the blood soaking his clothes and how steady his hands were. Wondered when he’d become so much stronger than she was.

* * *

The heavy rain was like a slap to the face, and it pulled Naia out of her fear long enough for anger to surface. Anger at her mother for forcing her out. Anger at Kylan for hauling her away. Anger at herself, because she might not get to talk to Amri again, and one of the last things she may ever have told him was ‘no’.

“Let me go, Kylan,” she growled, her wings flaring as she tried to break free from his hold.

He ignored her, dodging her wings and pulling her across the square toward the Great Smerth. “No. I know you, remember? The minute I let go of you, you’ll run right back to him.”

“That’s exactly what I should be doing! Running back to him.” She tugged against his grasp again, but it was useless. Trine ago when they’d first met, he’d never have been able to match her strength. Times were different, now. “I should be with him, Kylan. I should be strong enough to be with him.” Her breath caught in her throat, and she stumbled to a halt as hot tears joined the warm rainwater trickling down her face.

Kylan turned to face her. “You don’t always have to be strong, you know,” he reminded her. “Especially right now.” He finally released her wrist, instead stepping forward to wrap her in a fierce hug. She shuddered in his grasp, feeling completely off-kilter. She believed in him, of course she did… but he was so, so broken. Kylan’s clothes were covered in his blood – it was flowing off him in the heavy rain, down into the waters of the swamp below. Pieces of Amri, returning to Thra.

The thought threatened to undo her. Her anger vanished, replaced again by an overwhelming sense of loss. Naia tried to contain it, but she couldn’t. She keened into Kylan’s shoulder and felt as if she might lose her footing as she heard her own voice echoing through the glen, a chorus of grief. She felt rough around the edges as she trembled in Kylan’s grasp. She couldn’t handle the thought of burying Amri. What if her mother couldn’t save him? What if she never saw the twinkle in his eyes again as he laughed?

“He’s dying, Kylan.” It was simply fact. His chest was gaping open, he could hardly breathe... he was dying. She’d never seen her mother that distracted before, had never heard her doubt her ability to save someone before. That was proof enough.

“No, don’t say that. He’s surviving. There’s a difference.” Kylan pulled away and paused, looking suddenly protective as he placed himself squarely in front of her. She followed his gaze and noticed groups of Spriton refugees and Drenchen clansfolk scattered around the square, still curious and trying to determine what the commotion was about. He took her hand, much more gently than before. “We can go and wait in his workshop, okay? It’s private, and close to the hospital. I can go and get updates for you, and when you feel like you’re ready to go back and help, then I’ll take you back. Does that sound like a good compromise?”

Naia hated that she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be ready to go back and help. She didn’t think she could ever look at Amri, bleeding and broken, without her dependable stoicism dissolving like minerals in water. Still, she nodded, allowing him to lead her away toward the little cluster of roots that housed Amri’s workshop.

Kylan paused near the door, removing a little jar from his pack. She watched him lighting the substance inside using a nearby torch and focused on keeping her sobbing under control. She didn’t want to scare the other Gelfling in the square, or to create any more reason for them to look at her with alarm and concern.

Had she only been here the previous morning? Had it really been less than a day since she’d last seen him smiling, vibrant and safe? Since she’d kissed him and seriously considered following his suggestion to shirk their responsibilities and go back to bed, for once? Regret bloomed in her core. Why hadn’t she just listened to him?

Kylan guided her into the dark space and set the jar of what she now recognized to be everburn in the middle of the first workstation. In the weak glow, she could make out the shapes of familiar items on the table – Amri’s pack and leather jacket, as well as his sword.

Naia felt empty as she stared at the weapon. It was so familiar. Amri kept it in the corner of their bedroom, next to the door. He polished it regularly and practiced with it every day, just as he had all those trine ago on the deck of Onica’s ship. She recalled the way the ocean wind had blown his hair away from his face and twisted it into loose curls. He’d looked like a wild thing. She remembered the way his frustration and need to prove himself had drawn her to him, the way she’d laughed as he’d braided his hair back in irritation. Remembered the way he always leaned his head back into her hands when she braided it for him before his evening practice sessions, his eyes closed in contentment like a purring Fizzgig.

“Naia?” Kylan nudged her softly, pulling her out of her reverie. She pulled her eyes from the sword, which was coated in Garthim ichor, and did her best to focus on her best friend instead of the terror in her gut. “What can I do?” he whispered, looking helpless. “What do you need?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. Naia felt nauseated as she leaned against the wall just inside the doorjamb. She sank to the floor and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, determined to hold herself together.

Kylan shuffled over to the table and picked up Amri’s jacket. It was dry, and free from traces of blood. He crossed the room and stood in front of her, and she bit her lip as he draped it over her shoulders. He then slid down to sit beside her, offering his hand to her for comfort.

Amri’s jacket smelled like him. Clean water and fire dust, the herbal soap he used in the workshop, and traces of Dousan incense. Candlewax and stone. It was so familiar, so comforting.

She gripped Kylan’s hand tight – too tight, probably – and clapped her other hand over her mouth, determined not to wail again. She felt desperate to keep her anguish locked down. It felt like fire, and she didn’t want to give it air. If she did, she was afraid she’d never be able to get it under control again, that it would burn her through and through.

* * *

Naia heard footsteps, uneven and heavy, on the boardwalk outside of the workshop. It reminded her of the way her mother walked, and she listened for the click of Laesid’s cane, panic flooding up her spine. If Laesid was here –

She lifted her head from Kylan’s shoulder as Rian entered the room. He was limping heavily now, much worse than he had been when he’d retrieved her earlier that night. She’d never been more relieved to see him, but she couldn’t relax completely as Rian stumbled over to them.

“Kylan,” he said softly, reaching out to shake Kylan awake. “Kylan, wake up.”

Naia felt her hands tremble as Rian avoided her gaze. Kylan groaned, blinking rapidly as he awoke. “I’m up. What is it?” He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, then reached down to squeeze her forearm.

“Maudra Laesid wants you in the hospital right away.”

“What’s wrong?” Naia demanded.

Rian’s injured leg shook under his weight, and he struggled to stand. “Amri needs blood. The others arrived with the supply cart, so I sent the Vaprans to help, but they’re both injured and I don’t know how much they’ll be able to give.”

“Should I go and find Bellanji? He and I can help.” Kylan asked, moving to stand.

“He can’t. None of the Drenchen can.”

Naia got to her feet, pulling Amri’s jacket tighter around her shoulders. “Our blood is too different,” she explained, feeling small and helpless. “We require less air than the rest of you, so our blood doesn’t carry as much. That’s how we’re able to survive when breathing underwater.”

Rian groaned as he leaned against Amri’s workstation for support. “Tallis and Lahni went to find the other Grottan refugees. Maudra Laesid said they’d be best. But in the meantime, if you’re willing-”

Kylan nodded. “Of course, I am. I’ll go now. Naia – I’ll send someone with news as soon as I can. Rian, you’ll stay with her?”

Rian nodded, and Kylan ran out of the workshop into the rain. Naia stood in the doorway, watching as he disappeared around the corner toward the hospital entrance. She paced back and forth, feeling anxious once again, and tempted to run right after him.

She felt useless. She couldn’t handle being there for Amri, like their friends had. Unlike her brother, mother, and sister, she couldn’t control her emotions long enough to help heal him. She couldn’t even provide blood for him.

She glanced back at Rian. “Will you show me how he looks?”

Rian was still leaning against Amri’s worktable, his eyes closed in discomfort and all his weight on his good leg. “No.” His voice was firm. “You don’t need to see it.”

“Well, what did my mother say about his condition?” Naia asked, frustration flooding her tone.

“Not much. Just that he needed more blood right away, that I wasn’t allowed to give any, and to go and find Kylan.” He scowled.

Naia recognized the expression on his face. He was feeling useless, too. She retrieved the jar of everburn from the first table and carried it to Amri’s workstation. “If you lie on the table I can check out that leg. I might as well be of use to somebody.”

“It’s just sore, that’s all,” he protested. Still, Rian crawled up onto the table so that she could access his leg, seeming to know better than to truly argue with her this time. She set the makeshift candle down next to him and gently pulled at the torn pieces of fabric where he’d been struck.

She expected to find a messy gash through his hamstring, judging by the way he’d been limping and the amount of blood that covered his pant leg. Instead, she was greeted by a clean line of newly formed pink skin. The back of his leg was inflamed and red, and hot to the touch. Rian whined as she probed it.

She sank easily into the healing trance. He’d been cut to the bone, and while most of the muscle had healed appropriately, there was a deep pocket of infection, as well as necrotizing tissue all along the nerve connections. Deep, closest to the bone, she found traces of a familiar gray substance. Remembered Amri’s firm instructions that it should only be used on surface wounds, and the list of side effects he’d given her.

She pulled out of the trance. “You used the salve on this? Gurjin didn’t tell you to do this, did he?”

“No, he was busy. I saw a way to solve the problem, so I used it.” He shrugged.

“Did you even think to check what the side effects were before you used it?” Rian shook his head, and all the anger and frustration Naia felt at this entire situation threatened to boil over. “What were you thinking?” She turned away, riffling through the box of tools Amri kept on his desk to find a suitable knife or scalpel. “Don’t answer that,” she demanded as he opened his mouth to explain. “You weren’t thinking, that’s the correct answer.”

“I don’t see what the issue is. It’ll feel better with some rest.”

“It is infected and there’s dead tissue around the nerves, Rian. Maybe even the nerves themselves. That’s the issue.”

He paused and looked over his shoulder at her. “Will it stop me from fighting?”

Naia scoffed. “I don’t think so. Not if I can help it.” She plucked a delicate looking sickle knife from the box and held it over the flame to sterilize it. “You should never have even considered the salve. It’s only meant for superficial wounds. Gurjin could have fixed this up in a moment, you know. You could have just left the tourniquet on and left it alone, and one of us could have fixed it when you got here. But no.” She found a bundle of clean cloth in one of Amri’s cupboards – it looked like the kind used to strain items and was nowhere near as absorbent as the fibrous bandages back in the hospital. Still, it would have to do. “This type of injury-” Naia motioned at his leg. “This is a simple fix. As simple as breathing or swimming. But not when you’ve gone and given yourself nerve damage that’s potentially permanent.”

“Gurjin had more important things to worry about than my leg,” he pointed out, deadpan. “I wasn’t going to take attention away from Amri for even one second. I thought you of all people would understand that. So I’ve got nerve damage. Who cares? Not me. Amri made it home. He’s still alive, and that’s all that matters to me.”

Naia paused, her eyes locked on the wood grain of the table as her stomach turned, her nerves returning tenfold. She should be with Amri. She should be helping him, not tending to Rian. She should be holding onto him, anchoring him to Thra…

Rian rolled over and sat up at the edge of the table. He reached for her shoulders, holding her firmly. “You need to breathe,” Rian reminded her. “It’s not a weakness, feeling this way. This is what love feels like sometimes, Naia.” She looked up at him, and he nodded, satisfied to see her broken out of her fear once again. “If being mad at me makes you feel better, then be as mad as you want. I can take it.”

She deflated, and allowed him to sweep her into a hug instead. It was a rare occurrence – they were more likely to be at one another’s throats. Still, Naia needed the comfort. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, doing her best to keep her emotions under control. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You’re the hurt one, after all.”

“I think I’m hurting less than you, if I’m being honest.” Rian squeezed her tight, just like Gurjin would if he were there, and Naia relaxed. “Listen, I mean it. I don’t care about my leg. I mean, I’d prefer if if wasn’t messed up permanently, but if it is, it was worth it. We needed to get him home, and I did what I had to do to make that happen. I’m not sorry for that. I am sorry for upsetting you, though.”

She shook her head against his shoulder. “I’m not upset at you,” she admitted. “I’m upset that any of you had to be hurt in the first place. I hate this.”

“I know.”

“I hate that I just froze, the way I did. I couldn’t do anything. What if I’d been all he had?” She began to cry again, just considering it.

Rian pulled away and held her at arms length. He stared past her, his expression far away. “I remember when Mira-” Rian paused. Dabbed at his nose in the way people sometimes did to hide their tears. Naia had never known Rian to be ashamed of his emotions. Still, she supposed he must be containing them for a reason. Perhaps if he let them start, he wouldn’t be able to stop them.

“I remember when they killed her,” he whispered. “Watching it was terrible. I froze, then. There was nothing I could do. Literally, Naia, I couldn’t move. It was like my brain disconnected from the rest of me, and all I could do was watch and cry and scream inside my head.” He shook his head, reached down to pick grass off his boots. “Does that sound familiar?”

It did.

“Maybe I could have saved her. If I’d done something instead of stand there watching. I don’t know. Probably we’d both be dead.” Naia didn’t tell him that it wouldn’t be just him and Mira, but everyone. He knew it, already, and there was no use calling attention to it. He looked up and held her golden gaze. “The ‘what if’ doesn’t matter. The point is, I know what it feels like to be stuck. To not be able to help. It’s what happens when something terrible happens to someone you love. It’s like you feel their pain so deeply that you’re stunned. Love’s not something you can just turn off. It doesn’t work that way. So whatever you do, don’t blame yourself for freezing. You’re not the only one who has, and you won’t be the last.”

She pulled him close again, hoping he could feel her thanks in the embrace. If she tried to say it, she thought they both might melt, and she couldn’t handle that.

They stayed like that for a few long moments. When Naia felt that she had herself under control, she pulled away. “Don’t do something like this again,” she warned him. There was no bite to it. “Deet will have my neck for this.”

He rubbed awkwardly at his neck. “You’ll be fine. It’s me she’ll want to skin alive.”

“Do it again and I’ll help her.” The teasing in her voice fell flat, but Rian chuckled all the same. She appreciated the effort.

He glanced down at the sickle blade she’d set over the everburn. “This is going to hurt, isn’t it?”

She grimaced. “Yes, but I’ll be quick.”

To Rian’s credit, he didn’t make a fuss. Naia was true to her word, swiftly reopening a portion of the wound to drain away the infection. The actions were familiar, something she could lose herself in. She concentrated only on knitting muscle back together and on coaxing nerve endings to fire.

It felt good, being able to fix something.

* * *

Naia’s nerves had begun to fray with the Rose Sun dawn. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to reign it in this time – not after going so long without news. Not with the memory of yesterday’s dawn so close to the surface. His hand entwined in hers. His weight against her chest. His eyes, so deep, locked on hers.

“Naia? Rian? Are you still in here?”

Next to her, Rian startled awake, groaning as he jostled his leg. “Over here,” he called out. Naia lifted her head from Rian’s shoulder. She felt stiff from hours of sitting on the floor of Amri’s dark, cold workshop, held together only by Amri’s coat around her shoulders and Rian’s sturdy presence.

From their place in the back corner of the workshop, Naia could see Eliona standing in the entryway, searching the tiny, dark space. She was but a shadow framed by the rose tint of the sun’s light, and Naia felt her stomach turn.

Eliona entered the room and knelt in front of them. “Oh, Naia,” she whispered, leaning in to wrap her arms around Naia’s shoulders. Naia held her breath, preparing for the worst. “We finished the surgery. Mother’s closing him up now.” Eliona smiled, and Naia felt tears welling in the corner of her already swollen eyes, unbidden. “He got through the hard part. He’s still in bad shape, but Mother was able to set his ribs and get his lung fixed up. She wants to keep him sleeping for a few days. He’ll need more blood before we can heal him completely. It’ll take time, but he’s going to be okay.”

* * *

Naia slipped through the door, followed closely by Eliona and Rian. Her mother was asleep in a chair in the corner of the room, looking entirely spent. Gurjin and Kylan were sprawled together on a cot on the far side of the room, only the tops of their heads emerging from either end of a pile of blankets. Shades of woven apeknot leaves had been dropped over the nets to block out much of the daylight, though they didn’t block the sound of the drums. Naia thought it was surreal, hearing the reminder of the way life moved forward even when it felt like everything had changed.

Amri was resting on a cot in the middle of the room. He was covered with only a thin sheet, but Naia could see a sheen of sweat on his forehead. His face was covered in mottled bruises, and his hair was stained with dark ichor and blood.

She took a deep, calming breath, and walked to him.

She lowered herself to the floor next to the cot. She wanted to hold him, but she was unwilling to cause him additional pain in any way. Instead she trailed her fingers over his face, tracing his eyelids and lips with reverent hands as she watched him breathe.

She was crying again, but she didn’t make any effort to wipe these tears away. It wasn’t the uncontrollable sobbing she’d previously experienced – instead, she felt a sense of exhaustion and relief as the fear she’d battled faded from her tense muscles. She wouldn’t have to give his body back to Thra – wouldn’t have to lie awake while thinking of him sleeping, cold and alone, under the earth.

She wouldn’t have to spend the rest of her life feeling hollow.

He would make it. He would live. _They_ would live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading the newest installment!
> 
> Music that inspired this one:  
> -Sudden Throw by Olafur Arnalds  
> -Fix You by Coldplay  
> -Open Your Eyes by Snow Patrol  
> -A Stutter by Olafur Arnalds  
> -Somewhere a Clock is Ticking by Snow Patrol  
> -Where's My Love by SYML  
> -Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley


	4. Chapter 4

_Covered in everything, coveted all at once  
Everything covering, everything all at once_

_-Alps, Novo Amor and Ed Tullet_

* * *

“You should go and eat something.”

Just the thought of food made Naia’s stomach churn. More than that, though, she didn’t want to leave him. Not ever again, if she could help it. It wasn’t practical. She knew she’d have to leave his side sometime, but she wasn’t ready yet.

“At least take a walk,” Eliona insisted. She placed fresh tubing and Crystal Skimmer needles on the tray beside Amri’s bed. “Just while I get them hooked up. You make me nervous, watching everything I do. You’re like a hungry muski.”

Naia scoffed. “I’m not that bad.”

“Sure, you’re not,” Eliona mumbled.

Naia stood, abandoning the chair she’d dragged to Amri’s bedside hours ago. She began to pace the length of the room, avoiding the cot where Gurjin and Kylan still slumbered so as not to wake them.

Eliona watched her, seeming unimpressed. “That’s not exactly what I meant by a walk, but I suppose it’ll have to do.”

“I’m not trying to make you nervous,” Naia apologized, pausing in front of her sister. She looked down at Amri’s bruised face, checked again that he was still breathing. “I’m just-”

Eliona cut her off with a hug, and Naia held on tight, biting her lower lip. “You’re worried. You’re tired, and hungry, and still frightened. And also probably being too hard on yourself, because that’s what you do.” Naia laughed once, a harsh sound that was closer to a sob than mirth. “Do you want to do the transfusion? I’ll be right here to help if you need me.”

Naia thought about the way her hands had shaken when she’d tried to change his fluid line. It was one of the simplest tasks she’d ever performed in the hospital, something she could usually do without thinking. Collum had taken over for her, seeming to understand. Still, Naia had felt ashamed.

“No. You should do it,” she whispered. Eliona squeezed her tight before letting her go. Naia glanced back at the cot in the corner. “I’ll go and sit by those two, if it’s better for you. I just… I don’t want to leave.”

Eliona nodded. “I understand. I’ll be back in a moment.” She squeezed Naia’s shoulder, then padded swiftly away.

Naia gazed down at Amri. He was so pale that he looked as if his skin had been dusted with powder. She leaned down and kissed his forehead, hating the feel of his cold skin beneath her lips. “There’s a Vapran coming to help you,” she whispered, feeling foolish. He couldn’t hear her, not through the influence of the _arara_ sedative. Still, it felt nice to talk to him, to imagine the way he’d laugh at the thought of it. “I wonder what Tavra will say, when she finds out. I bet she’ll be insufferable, teasing you about your new Silverling blood. We’ll have to send a letter to Onica when you’re up and about.”

She had no idea when that would be. No idea when she’d get to see his eyes again or hear his voice. Naia felt a great wave of panic threatening to break over her once again, and she closed her eyes, breathing deeply to try and push it back as she heard footsteps approaching the room.

Her sister entered the room and returned to Amri’s side, accompanied by a Vapran paladin who’d been recovering from a head injury in Sog for the last fortnight. Eliona pulled Naia’s empty chair close to the bedside, then gestured at it. “You can take a seat here. Get comfortable – this is going to take a bit. You’ve met Naia before, right? And Amri?”

The Vapran man nodded, looking at Amri with concern. “He gave me a blindfold to help with the headaches when I first arrived.” He shook his head, looking like he couldn’t believe his eyes. “You work miracles here,” he said, glancing between Eliona and Naia. “If he’d been in Ha’rar-”

Naia didn’t want to hear the rest of the sentence, didn’t want to think about people on in the north being injured like this. They’d be lost without healing _vliyaya_. There weren’t enough skilled Drenchen healers to send any to the north, she knew that. Laesid and the other _maudras_ had agreed to keep the healers on the Southern Line, where the population was greater and where they were closer to the safety of Sog. She managed not to think about how different things must be on the Northern Line most of the time. She couldn’t handle thinking about it, today. Instead, she grasped his hand gratefully. “Thank you for doing this, Lukin. I’m grateful. Amri will be, too.”

The man smiled kindly at her, and she remembered that he’d been there when she lost her head in the main ward that morning. Naia’s cheeks flushed, but he didn’t seem to notice. “He’d do it for me, I’m sure.” It was true. He would. Naia gave him a smile – it didn’t reach her eyes, but she was sure he’d understand.

She stepped back, shifting awkwardly as Eliona retrieved the needles and tubing from the tray at Amri’s bedside. She forced herself to walk across the room and give them some space. Eliona would never kick her out as Laesid had done, but Naia needed to respect her sister’s request.

She stood next to Gurjin and Kylan’s bed and looked out over the swamp. She loved the view from this room. It looked almost like a painting, except for the rippling water and the changing angles of light through the canopy as the suns crossed the sky. From this spot, one could only see the tranquility of the Sog instead of the busy, bustling Glenfoot that lay behind them. It was perfect. She closed her eyes, listening as Eliona explained each step of the transfusion process to Lukin.

Naia had always felt the pressure of following in her mother’s footsteps, not just as _maudra_ , but also as an innovator in healing techniques. Naia could perform basic surgical procedures, but she preferred traditional healing wherever possible. She’d rather help a mother bring a baby into the world or help an injured man learn how to walk again. She doubted her own ability to become both a master surgeon and a successful _maudra_ during this time of war. There were plenty of demands on her time, such as helping the council with plans to house and feed the increasing numbers of refugees from the Stonewood and Spriton territories. She regularly worked with her father and the builders on their efforts to divert water and create dry land in the Southern Expanse for the Spriton landstrider herds, and she assisted Sifan and Dousan council representatives to establish regular trade routes and shipping schedules. Her efforts enabled Laesid to focus on the hospital and on the Drenchen, and she was happy to help. Still, these new wartime duties prevented her from learning the traditional skills that her family had passed down and improved upon for generations. That was why she worked early and went to bed late, spending as much time as she could in the hospital, and pushing herself to continue advancing her healing skills. They’d be needing more surgeons before long – Amri’s experience only proved that.

As Naia listened to Eliona speak, her voice confident and collected, she felt some of the pressure lift away. Maybe, she realized, she didn’t have to carry the weight of their mother’s legacy all on her own. Eliona was just like Laesid during surgeries – fast, efficient, and intuitive. She had the knowledge and the skill needed, and she also had the advantage of time. Time to learn, and learn well. Time to advance her practice and teach others, to keep innovation alive even in this time of uncertainty.

She heard fabric rustling and opened her eyes to find Gurjin staring up at her from his cocoon of blankets. “You’re thinking so loudly I can practically hear you,” he groaned, lifting his hands to his face.

She resisted the urge to check on Eliona’s progress as she took a step closer to her brother. “Sorry. I can’t really help it.” She leaned closer to him, reaching a hand toward his forehead.

He was too warm. She wondered absently if that had more to do with his exertions while healing Amri, or if it was due to his and Kylan’s body heat under the pile of blankets they shared. A burst of mirth broke through her worry as she considered the way they’d curled around one another while sleeping. There’d been something there between them for a while, now. She wondered if they’d ever realize it and give in to it.

Gurjin batted her hand away. “Don’t mother me. Mother’s done enough of that already.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I could sleep for a week. How’s Amri?” He propped himself up on his right elbow, looking toward the other bed in the room.

“He’s still got a fever. We gave him some _pipsi_ flower for it, but there’s no change yet. Eli’s starting another transfusion now. Collum gave him some flume mint extracts to help strengthen his lungs about two hours ago. He’s breathing a little easier, now.” Naia crossed her arms over her chest and glanced back, watching as Eliona deftly wrapped Amri’s forearm in healing silk to secure the needle and tubing she’d placed there.

“You look like a lady,” he said. She turned back to him, suspicious.

“Are you trying to distract me?”

He simply raised an eyebrow.

Naia rolled her eyes at him. “I am a lady.”

“I know, but it’s weird to see you looking like one.” Gurjin gestured at her nightdress and gossamer robe. “D’you know what I mean?”

She snorted, taking a seat on the cot as she returned her eyes to Amri. “Yes, I suppose I do.”

“That’s something you only ever wear around Amri and the family.” Gurjin scooted back toward the wall, pulled Kylan’s legs out of her way, and lifted the blankets, patting the narrow stretch of empty space left behind.

She grimaced. “And the rest of Sog, now, apparently.” She hesitated for only a moment before sliding into the warm bed and settling in her brother’s comforting arms.

“Well, then it’s a good thing you don’t like showy things.” He gestured to the delicate beading along the collar of the dress. “This is pretty, but modest. Not like the stuff they wear in Ha’rar,” Gurjin quipped. “Some of the garments I’ve seen are just-”

She pushed his shoulder and scowled. “I don’t need to know.” She ignored his dry chuckle and angled her body so that she could keep Amri in sight. “When I heard him moaning like he was, I didn’t even think about appearances. I just wanted to get to him,” she whispered, her voice hoarse as she fought off another round of tears.

Gurjin sobered. “I don’t think anyone would expect otherwise,” he said softly.

She watched as the blood began to flow from Lukin’s arm to Amri’s and felt a pang in her chest. “You saved him, Gurjin. You-”

He cut her off. “We don’t need to do this now. Or ever.”

“But-”

“No,” he insisted. “I did what you’d have done, and nowhere near as well as you’d have done it. End of story.” Gurjin gave her a lopsided smile. “You want to thank me? Take a nap.”

“A nap?” she repeated, confused.

“You look sick. If you’re as nervous was I was last night, you probably feel sick, too. And I know you don’t sleep when he’s away,” he reminded her. She didn’t deny it. “You need to get some rest while you can.”

“I don’t know if I can sleep with him like this,” she admitted.

“Just try. I’ll stay awake and keep watch, and Eliona will be here. I’ll wake you up when the transfusion is done or if anything changes. Okay?”

Naia stared at Amri’s pale face for a long, excruciating moment, before she turned away and settled her head on Gurjin’s shoulder, doing her best to relax instead of panic at the thought of something going wrong if she took her eyes off him. “Okay. I’ll try.”

* * *

Rian opened his eyes to find two sets of familiar, dark eyes staring down at him. Blearily, he reached up to rub the sleep from his own. He knew who these two must be. He’d been waiting all day for them to arrive. Rian dreaded having to be the bearer of bad news once again. Still – he’d do it. It was better they find out from him than from the rumor mill. With the amount of chatter in the square that morning, Rian was surprised they hadn’t already figured it out.

“I’m sorry, sir,” began the boy. His hair was wild, frizzy and standing on edge as if he hadn’t bothered to do anything with it after rolling out of bed. “Can I help you find the hospital? We’ve got some medicines here, but they’ll be able to help you better than we can.”

Rian glanced down at his pant leg, still covered in dried blood. It was no wonder the Grottan teen thought he needed the hospital.

“It’s alright,” he said, pulling himself up to sit in a more dignified position, instead of just slumped over and wrapped in a thin, spartan blanket. “One of the healers helped me this morning.”

The girl leaned out around her companion, looking curious. The warm smile on her lips and her wide, trusting eyes reminded him so much of Deet that he felt his heart skip a beat. Was this how he would feel, if their childling turned out to be a daughter?

“You’re Cade, right? And Embryn?”

Their ears flicked at the sound of their names, and they glanced at each other uncertainly.

“That’s us,” Embryn said, cautious but cheerful. “You’re Rian, aren’t you? I remember you from the fires.” She didn’t wait for him to confirm it, but instead rambled on. In this respect, Rian thought, she was rather more like Brea than Deet. “Did you need something from the apothecary? Our teacher isn’t here right now, but we might be able to help! We’ve got some healing salves and disinfectant, packets of fire dust for cooking… coral dust, too. Oh, and sogflower paste!”

Rian frowned. “Actually, I have some news about Amri for you.” He motioned to the two of them. “Why don’t you sit down so we can talk?”

He hated the way both of their faces fell.

* * *

Naia could see the blood on his face even under the pale blue glow of the moss, dark stains on his otherwise pale countenance. His hair was lank with it, weighed down She could smell it on him, a rusty, souring scent that reminded her of the Castle. She hadn’t realized what the smell was, the night they’d freed Gurjin. She recognized it now. It was fear and approaching death and desperate life, all in one.

She couldn’t stand it a moment longer.

She stood and pushed her chair aside. Slowly, carefully, she rolled his bed across the room, bringing him to a stop near the edge of room beneath the insect netting. Naia was barely aware as she gathered supplies from the storage cabinets along the wall – a large basin of water, a piece of sea sponge. The herbal soap Amri made, the one he always smelled of. Cleansing solution, fresh bandages. Fresh sheets, a soft towel, and a warm blanket.

She placed everything on the tray at his bedside and listened to the rain against the apeknot leaf drapes that sheltered the little room during the nightly rains. It was gentle a gentle storm this time, not the deluge of the previous evening. Naia rolled one giant leaf back from it’s place above his bed, allowing a gentle shower to fall onto his body.

She closed her eyes and took several deep, steadying breaths, feeling the warm water against her face as she gathered the courage she hadn’t had the night before. She knew she needed to face his injuries now, while he was sleeping. She didn’t trust herself to react well, not anymore, and he didn’t need to see her breaking down. When he faced what had happened to him, he would need her to hold him up, to be just as dependable and solid as she’d always been.

Gently, she pulled away the blankets that had been covering him.

The scar running across his torso stole her breath. It was angry and red, unnatural looking against his pale skin. Near his right hip, it was smaller – only as wide as her smallest finger. She placed a hand on his abdomen and traced the jagged line, hot to the touch, all the way to his left shoulder. In the center of his chest, just above his sternum, it was wider than her hand. The new skin was rough, angry and strained. She recognized this type of scar tissue – the kind that ran deep, the kind that ached like a missing limb.

He reminded Naia of the creatures they’d seen wandering the Plains from time to time – creatures from the Scientist’s lab, all scar tissue and sutures and half-living flesh. With a shuddering breath, she pulled her hand away to retrieve the sponge from the water basin at her side.

She squeezed the water out over his chest and began to wipe away the blood staining his body. Remembered the way she’d joked, back when they’d first begun sharing a bed, that he looked like he’d been sculpted from stone. It felt like a foolish thing to say, now.

Even surrounded by death as they were, Naia realized that she’d never thought anything would happen to him – to any of them, really. The worst had already happened, hadn’t it? Gurjin had escaped the draining chair. She and Amri had survived multiple altercations with the Skeksis. The Gelfling had won the battle at Stone-in-the-Wood. They’d survived.

How had she been so naïve? None of them were immortal. None of them were made of stone.

His chest was no longer crushed, but there was considerable swelling around his rib cage and his right hip. The accompanying bruises became clearer as she washed him, and made her shiver. There were other reminders of what he’d endured, of course. The thick line of sutures along his right side, marking the place where they’d removed his destroyed kidney. The wound was still open, allowing the stubborn infection there to drain until he could handle more dream-healing. Multiple silver scars lined his abdomen, all in a line, indicating where his intestines had been punctured. They looked like old wounds already, barely noticeable against the jagged line cutting diagonally across his torso.

She was glad for the warm rain – she could almost forget she was crying with the warm water trickling down her face.

“I don’t know how to be without you,” she whispered, massaging his scalp with tender hands as she rinsed away the Garthim ichor from his hair. “Back when we were lighting the fires, when you almost went to Grot with Tavra and Onica… I didn’t know how to be without you, then, either. I’ve just never known how to say it. Silly, hm?” Naia leaned down to place her forehead against his. “I’ll make sure to tell you, when you wake up,” she promised.

* * *

She woke to the sound of singing voices, quiet and gentle. She knew Kylan’s rich baritone. It was always comforting to her, hearing him sing. She’d heard Rian singing before, as well. Like Amri, his voice was a clear tenor. The other voices, though, were young and less familiar.

Naia squinted past the beams of sunlight that pierced through the apeknot shades and into the hospital room. From her spot on the spare cot, she could clearly see Amri’s bed. Kylan and Rian were there, sitting next to him, accompanied by Cade and Embryn. Embryn was crying so hard she was barely able to sing. Her green cheeks flushed with emotion, and she could barely look at Amri. Instead, she clung to Kylan’s hand, looking small, unsure and heartbroken. Cade didn’t look much better. His hair was messier than usual, as if he’d been dragging his hands through it relentlessly for some time, and he was pale. Naia immediately felt her stomach sink.

Amri was so good with them – almost like an older brother instead of their master teacher. He ate meals with them regularly. He brought them along when he went out hunting with Bellanji and Pemma, determined to get them out of their usual haunts and engaged in Drenchen society. He invited them over to play a Grottan game called Gricksies every now and then, especially when Naia had to stay late at the hospital or if she was called upon to deliver a baby. He worried about them constantly, and took his commitment to them seriously.

Naia hadn’t even considered them. He’d been back in Sog, gravely injured, for a full day, and she hadn’t even thought to find them and tell them he’d been hurt. She was furious with herself.

They’d have been waiting for him in the workshop the previous afternoon, ready to help unload the new supplies and eager for stories of his travels. They’d have been confused when he didn’t turn up, she was sure. She wondered how long they’d waited for him to turn up, and how worried they’d been when he never had. Embryn was friends with Pemma, wasn’t she? Maybe Pemma had said something…

Rian carried the tune, strong and clear compared to Cade’s hesitant, breaking voice. Naia thought she’d heard Amri humming it before. Still, she wasn’t familiar with the words. It was lovely, about the promise of a new day, about the kindness of Thra and the gift of the suns’ light even in the darkest of places. Embryn dropped out of the melody entirely, and Naia felt her heart shatter.

She pushed her blankets aside and got out of bed, approaching the others slowly so as not to startle them or interrupt their song. Cade was usually nervous around her, and Naia wasn’t shocked when he avoided her gaze as she stepped into the loose circle around Amri’s bed. She _was_ surprised when Embryn let go of Kylan’s hand and moved swiftly around the table, throwing herself into Naia’s arms.

Of the two young Grottans, Embryn was much less timid. They’d spent some time together stocking medicines and treating patients in the hospital. They were friendly, but they weren’t what Naia would call close. Even so, she hugged Embryn tight as the girl sobbed into her shoulder, holding her securely, the same as she would do with Pemma. “I’m so sorry, Embryn,” she whispered, feeling hot tears welling in her eyes. She’d cried so much over the past day that it made them sting. She met Cade’s eyes briefly, before he looked away to focus back on Amri. “I should have come to find you both. I’m so, so sorry.”

Rian trailed off, leaving the room in a hush punctuated Embryn’s harsh breath. Naia closed her eyes, letting her tears fall into Embryn’s hair. She was so like Deet, so cheerful and gentle. Unlike Naia, she always kept her emotions on the surface, so that other people were more likely to know what she felt before she even knew it herself. It was terrible, listening to her cry.

Cade broke the long silence. “Is he going to wake up soon?”

Naia opened her eyes and looked at the boy. Was this what Amri had looked like when he was younger? Gangly and tall, wiry and awkward in his own skin? He’d shown her dreamfasts from when he was small, but never any from those early teen years. What if she’d never had the chance to know? “Not for a few days, at least. The healers are keeping him asleep so his body can focus on healing.”

“Why does he look so white, like that?” Cade whispered, his voice breaking with emotion.

Naia hesitated briefly, glancing up at Kylan for guidance. He nodded once, and she took a deep breath, turning her attention back to Cade. “He lost a lot of blood. It makes you go really pale like that, when there’s not enough blood circulating. He’ll get more color back as his body makes more to replace what was lost.”

Cade looked up at Kylan, too. “That’s why you gave him some of yours?” he asked. “Because he didn’t have enough?”

Kylan nodded, resting a hand on Cade’s shoulder. “That’s right. I’ll give him some more in a few days, and there are others helping, too. He lost so much that he needs a bit of extra help until his body can catch up.”

Cade turned to her immediately, his eyes wide and his fists clenched. “Take mine.” Naia’s heart broke at his expression, at the desperation in every muscle in his body. “I can help. I _want_ to help.”

Embryn pulled away, wiping at her face. “Me, too. I’ve watched Maudra Laesid do it before. We can handle it. I know we can.”

Naia didn’t doubt that they could. She’d seen them, working alongside Amri and dealing with some truly terrible substances. They weren’t the squeamish type, and they were both determined. Still… “You’re both still growing. The healers probably won’t want to let you give him blood,” she warned. She understood the need to help, to feel like they were doing something, but she also didn’t know how Amri would feel about this. He was so protective of them that she doubted he’d be happy to find out they’d allowed his students to open their veins for him.

Cade’s face fell, and he sat in one of the chairs at Amri’s bedside, tucking his legs against his chest and making himself as small as possible. “I hate the Garthim,” he whispered, hiding his face against his knees. “I hate all of this.” His voice was muffled, thicker than it had been before. “I just wish there was something I could do.”

Embryn sniffled again, and the three older Gelfling exchanged glances. What strange new territory they found themselves in. Naia felt compelled to provide comfort to the younger Gelfling, but that felt impossible to do. She felt the same as Cade did every time she looked at Amri, every time she thought about the magnitude of the war. She felt no optimism at all, and she had no idea how to comfort them without lying to them. That was not her way. She would not try to paint a picture for them that was anything but accurate – but an accurate picture wasn’t likely to make them feel any better.

Rian cleared his throat, and stepped forward. “We do, too. Every day. We hate it and we do our best to do something about it.” He knelt in front of Cade’s chair, and Naia suddenly had a glimpse of the father he would soon be – a kind man, a good man. A man who told the truth. “It might not feel like it right now, but you do something to make this world better every day. Those bombs you helped to make saved my life the other day. And the medicines you make – they’ll be used to heal people, to make sure those people get to go home to their families. We keep on going because we hope moments like this will stop happening to people all over Thra. We do it because we hate what they’re doing to us and our home. Hopefully, if we press on, one day we can be free of the Garthim and the Skeksis.”

Cade lifted his head, tears streaming down his cheeks as he stared at Rian. Naia could see him clinging to Rian’s words. Ordinarily, Naia would be annoyed at his bravado and his speeches. Today, though, she found herself grateful for him. He had a gift for making people feel something, for rallying people to a cause and making them see their worth. “You’re making a difference, even when you can’t see it. That’s why we have to keep fighting. It’s why the work you do with Amri every day is so important. Sometimes resisting looks like winning, and sometimes it looks like this.” He motioned to where Amri lay. “Even when it’s like this, we have to keep going. Okay?”

Cade looked away, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “Okay.”

Rian clapped him on the knee and turned to Embryn. “What about you? What do you say?”

Embryn nodded, leaning her head onto Naia’s shoulder. Naia wrapped an arm around her, doing her best to be comforting. “When my mother comes in to check on him, we can ask her, okay? About the blood.” Both of the Grottans perked up a bit, and Naia sighed. “If she says no, though, we have to listen. No arguing with the _maudra_. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Embryn whispered, sniffling again.

Rian rose slowly, favoring his bad leg. Naia scowled at him, and he gave her a wry smile. “I’m going to get started on unloading those supplies.” He looked down at Cade again. “I understand you’re in charge around here when Amri’s gone. Want to come and show me where everything goes so I don’t mess it all up?”

Cade pulled his shoulders back, sitting a bit straighter. Kylan bit back a smile, and Naia hid one of her own. Rian would be a natural, indeed. “Can we come back when Maudra Laesid gets here?”

“Absolutely. We’ll keep an eye out for her while we work.”

Embryn looked pleadingly at Cade. “I want to stay here with Amri.” She glanced back at Naia. “Can I?”

Naia nodded. She pulled one of the chairs closer to Amri’s bedside and sank into it, curling up and hugging her knees just as Cade had. She understood all too well how he was feeling. She felt helpless much of the time, knowing there was nothing she could do to speed the process along until his body was ready for more healing. She rested her eyes on the rise and fall of his chest as the others bid Rian and Cade goodbye. Her magic and her blood were no good to him; still, she hoped that even in the depths of sleep, he knew that she was by his side.

“Naia?” She pulled her gaze away from Amri and turned to Kylan. He’d taken a seat across from her, and his _firca_ was in hand. “We’re going to sing the Morning Song for him again. Will you join us?”

The younger girl gave her a watery smile, and her overlarge ears piqued forward with interest, the same way Amri’s always did when he was trying to cajole her into something. Naia did her best to look at least a little cheerful for Embryn, but she felt confused. “The Morning Song?”

Kylan frowned at her. “The song they use to greet the day back in Domrak.”

Embryn cut him off, rambling with her nerves. “It’s Amri’s favorite! We sing it every day before we start work, just like back home. He says it’s important, so we remember where we came from. I thought… well, Cade and I thought maybe he’d like to hear it. We were hoping it would make him feel better. It always makes me feel better, when I’m not feeling well or when I’m homesick.” The younger girl looked nervous, as if she’d revealed too much.

Naia looked back and forth between the two of them, an uncomfortable heat in her chest and cheeks. “His favorite, hm?” She felt suddenly sick, just as nervous as Embryn, and entirely inadequate. She’d thought his favorite song was a tale about the Sister Moons. He requested a telling every time Kylan was in Sog. She’d never even heard of this Morning Song. It had sounded familiar when she’d listened earlier. She recalled him humming a similar tune now and again. Still – he’d never told her about it or sung the words in front of her. He’d never told her that he sang it every day with his apprentices. This was something she should know. “I bet you’re right about it making him feel better. I’d love to sing it with you. Will you teach it to me?”

Embryn brightened immediately and pulled another chair forward, next to Naia. “Do you sing high or low?”

She gave Embryn a quick smile, though she was sure it didn’t reach her eyes. “Low, definitely.” Naia swallowed, avoiding Kylan’s questioning gaze. Instead, she concentrated on learning the words and the tune. Still, she couldn’t push back the hurt entirely. If this song was important to him, why hadn’t he ever shared it with her?

* * *

Laesid pulled her hands away from Amri’s chest, the blue glow fading from her hands as she frowned. Naia sat up straighter in her chair, feeling apprehensive at her mother’s expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“Rian, will you go and fetch Cade for me, please?”

Rian pushed himself off of the wall he’d been leaning against. “Maudra?”

Laesid scowled. “Amri needs more blood, and I’m tired of the boy pestering me at the supper table every night. He’s seen sixteen trine. If he really wants to do it, I’ll let him.” She frowned down at Amri. “It’ll probably be the best thing for this one, anyway. Even if he won’t like it when he founds out about it later.”

Rian glanced sidelong at Naia, who had gone pale, before leaving the room. Naia reached for Amri’s hand, squeezing it tight as she gaped at her mother. It had been eight days since Amri had been injured –long days of procedure after procedure, and long nights spent waiting for him to recover enough for further interventions with healing _vliyaya_. “Another transfusion? But he should be starting to produce more of his own by now.”

Laesid nodded and reclined against her tall chair. “He is, a bit. Not as much as he should, and he’s not retaining enough of what we’ve given him.” She glanced from Naia to Gurjin and Kylan, both of whom were seated on the other side of Amri’s bed. “He lost a lot of marrow with the breaks, so that will make it harder for him to make more blood. We expected that. We didn’t think he’d have a negative reaction to the sedative, though. It can happen, but it’s rare in my experience. Could be more common among the Grottan, but that’s something I can’t test now. I think it’s more likely related to the loss of his kidney.” She shook her head. “ _Arara_ berries are poisonous in their natural form. I don’t think this diluted form is hurting him, exactly, but I do think his remaining kidney is struggling to keep up, and that it’s interfering with the rest of his body healing.”

“What does that mean, Mother?” Gurjin asked, sounding guilty and just as worried as Naia felt.

“It means we’ve got to wake him up earlier than planned. It’s not ideal – he’s going to be miserable. Still, keeping him comfortable isn’t worth risking his kidney, in my opinion. I’d rather be cautious.” She crossed her arms and gave a deep sigh. “We also don’t have an endless supply of blood. He needs the marrow to start regenerating. That’s not something we can heal or replace, he has to do that all on his own.”

“There aren’t any other sedatives he can try?” Kylan asked, quiet and hesitant.

“Just moonberry,” Naia said, her eyes on Gurjin. He’d been kept sedated with moonberry back at the Castle of the Crystal. It wasn’t the best option – while it could produce a deep sleep, it also caused hallucinations and, more often than not, extreme nausea. “After what happened, I don’t think it’s a good option.”

“It’s never a good option,” Gurjin mumbled.

They were all quiet for a long moment. “Would you be willing to tell some songs tonight in the gathering rooms, Kylan?” Laesid asked, sounding weary. “It’ll be a treat for the clan, and it should keep them distracted while we do what we can to make him more comfortable. Perhaps Rian can join you, as well. Bellanji has a spare lute in our rooms.”

“Of course, Maudra.” Kylan didn’t sound happy about it, but he would never refuse her. “When should we start?”

Laesid closed her eyes, and Naia could practically see the calculations whirring through her head. “He should wake up around the start of second dusk.” She opened her eyes and met Naia’s gaze. It felt like a test. Then, she stood up, and Naia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Naia brought Amri’s hand to her lips, staring at the opposite wall without really seeing it. She listened to Laesid and Gurjin talking in low, urgent voices as they gathered supplies for the transfusion. The echoes of his distant screams from that first night played on repeat in her head. How was she going to get through this?

She barely noticed as Kylan walked to her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “You can handle this,” he whispered, full of the same faith and belief he’d always had where she was concerned.

“I don’t know. I always thought I was strong, but-”

“You are strong,” he insisted.

“What do I do, Kylan? How did you keep him distracted for all those hours?”

He shrugged. “I sang until I went hoarse, mostly. And I just held onto him. Let him know someone who cared for him was there. That’s all he seemed to want, really – just someone to hold on to and focus on.” He rested his chin on the top of her head, and Naia allowed herself to relax into her best friend’s grip. “You don’t need to be composed. Just be present with him and tell him it’s going to be okay. That’s all he needs from you, Naia.”

* * *

The healers had already been at work for three hours when he started to stir. His ears twitched, following sound for the first time in over a week, and she took an unsteady breath. She’d been looking forward to seeing his eyes again, but she hadn’t thought it would be like this. She hadn’t wanted him to wake with his ribs still in splinters, barely connected by the new shards of bone her mother had managed to form that first night.

Lahni and Thallis sat on Amri’s left side, with Gurjin on his right. Behind Gurjin, the apeknot shades had been rolled up to reveal the view of the swamp, glowing in the light of the setting Rose Sun. They’d discussed it and agreed it would be best to make sure he knew where he was. Gurjin thought seeing the apeknots on one side and the glow moss overhead might soothe him. Naia hoped he was right.

She sat cross-legged at the top of his bed with his head placed carefully in her lap, gently brushing her fingers through his hair. Thought about how desperately she’d wanted him to wake peacefully, with pain only a distant memory. That wouldn’t happen, not now.

She froze as Amri groaned, his voice rough after so many days of disuse. Gurjin reached up and gripped her knee, doing his best to soothe her. “It’s going to be okay, Naia.”

As he continued to come back to consciousness, she felt increasingly distressed. Amri was already in pain and he wasn’t even even fully awake. He continued to groan, and the sound was growing in intensity. Already, Naia ached for him.

His fingers twitched, and although his movements were clumsy, he tried to reach for his chest. Lahni and Gurjin were prepared for it. She watched them pin his forearms down, gentle but firm. It looked well-practiced, and she wondered how many times they’d had to hold him down like this on their journey south. At their touch, Amri’s eyes finally slid open, slow and heavy, and she hated what she saw in them as he looked back and forth between them, and at the healers with glowing blue hands all around him.

Disorientation, pain, fear. Then, as his eyes locked on hers, a brief flicker of recognition.

“Naia?” he whispered, his voice raspy and broken, just like the rest of him.

“I’m here, Amri. I’ve got you,” she whispered back, holding back tears. She wanted to be strong for him. She reached toward him and gently combed her fingers through his hair. Naia bit her lip hard, trying to prevent herself from crying. She didn’t want to break down on him, not now. Not when he was finally awake. Not when he was shuddering in her arms, when he needed her. Still, despite her best efforts, she felt tears escaping down her cheeks.

Amri blinked up at her, groggy and confused. He tugged against Lahni and Gurjin’s hold and cried out. His breath came faster and faster. She moved quickly, bracing his shoulders with the gentlest of pressure. “You have to keep still, love,” she told him, trying to keep the tears out of her voice. “You’re still a bit broken.” He was moaning now, sobbing, and it made Naia feel sick. There was nothing she could do and she hated it. “It’s alright. You’re going to be alright.”

“Gurjin… I need Gurjin,” he choked out, tearing his eyes from hers as he searched the room.

“Right here,” Gurjin said, his voice calm and soothing as he stood up, putting himself directly in Amri’s field of vision. “I’m right here, brother.” Naia’s breath caught in her chest. She’d heard Gurjin call him that before. He was usually casual or teasing when he said it, but this was different. This was sincere and true, and hearing it made Naia’s heart warm. Gurjin gripped his hand, and Amri returned the pressure, his knuckles going white.

His eyes were unfocused again, glazed over. “You promised,” he breathed, looking desperate.

Gurjin’s expression shifted from one of hope to one of guilt. “Gurjin?” she demanded, doing her best to keep Amri’s shoulders still despite the way he was shaking.

Gurjin looked conflicted. He and Lahni exchanged glances, and Gurjin looked at Naia only briefly before promptly ignoring her and turning back to Amri.

“You’re right. I did promise. But only if there was nothing we could do, remember?”

Amri spasmed with pain, his eyes slamming shut as he gasped.

“Look at me, Amri. I know it’s bad. Try and focus.” Gurjin waited until Amri focused on him, then continued. “Can you handle some hard-talk?” Amri continued to shake, but he nodded. “You’re going to make it. Alright? That’s my new promise. You’ve got a wicked scar, but you’re going to be fine. Mother and the healers are working as fast as they can to fix your ribs. It’s going to feel miserable for a little while, and then it will get better. So you’ve just got to bear it until then.”

Amri’s eyes welled with tears, and he tried again to reach for his chest. “You keep saying that and it’s never true,” he accused through gritted teeth. Naia rarely heard Amri sounding angry, and she was surprised at the vitriol he had for Gurjin even amid such agony.

Gurjin hardly seemed to notice. “I really mean it this time,” he assured him, remaining steadfast even as Amri clawed at his forearm and released a wail just like the ones she’d heard from a distance that first night. Everyone around the table, even the healers deep in their trances, flinched at the sound.

Her mother had been right to keep the clan distracted, she realized.

Naia was afraid to touch him, afraid to make it worse. Gurjin reached out with his spare hand and rubbed her shoulder, trying his best to offer comfort to both of them at once.

“Just keep talking to him, Naia,” Lahni suggested. She was calm – so calm. Naia had been that way, once. Would she ever be able to find that command over her emotions again? “It’ll help both of you.”

“Naia’s here?” he asked, his voice breaking, and her heart shattered all over again. He was staring right at her – had known she was there only moments before – and yet he wasn’t seeing her.

“It’s alright,” Gurjin assured her, his voice quiet. “He goes in and out like this. Just keep reminding him you’re here.”

Unexpectedly, Amri writhed, moving his legs for the first time in days. Gurjin’s entire body sagged with relief at the sight. “It’s working. Here, hold his hand. I’m going to help.” Gurjin and Thallis leaned around the healers, holding Amri’s legs still to stop him from moving any further. Her brother’s hands glowed as he sank into the trance to join the other healers.

She reached down and grabbed Amri’s hand, knotting their fingers together. With her other hand, she touched the side of his face, trying her best to get him to focus on her once again. “Amri – Amri, look up. Just look at me and breathe, okay?” He locked onto her face, his eyes clouded with pain.

“Naia?” he asked again. She squeezed his hand gently, and felt slightly heartened when he immediately clutched her hand so hard she thought her knuckles might pop.

“I’m right here,” she told him again. “You’re home and you’re safe.”

“It’s like knives,” he gasped, wailing again as he clung to her.

Naia didn’t doubt him. She’d broken her leg once, long ago, and she could remember the stabbing sensation as her mother had coaxed shards of bone to seal the break. It had been worse than the initial shock of the break itself. “I know it’s awful, love. I’d take it all away for you if I could,” she breathed.

It was some time before Amri relaxed again. As his cries faded, Naia could hear the faint trilling of Kylan’s _firca_ echoing through the swamp from the top of the Great Smerth. She held Amri as he caught his breath and wondered how long the sounds of his screaming would haunt her.

Amri’s breath came a little easier and the pressure of his hand eased around hers. Through it all, his eyes had never left her, and he looked more much lucid than before. He looked around the room again and seemed to really take it in, this time. She saw his eyes light up with recognition as he saw familiar faces in the group of healers seated and standing all around him, and again when he saw Lahni to his left.

Then, his gaze returned to Naia. “You’re crying,” Amri murmured as he looked back up at her, his brow crinkling with concern.

She nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. I just don’t like seeing you hurt,” she whispered. He leaned into her hand, and she brushed her thumb over his cheekbones, hoping that her touch was offering him some comfort.

Naia remembered what Kylan had said about singing. It wasn’t talking, not exactly, but… She started with something familiar, an old Drenchen lullaby about birds and sunlight, clear water and warm air. Laesid had sung it to Naia and Gurjin before bed every night when they were small, and she didn’t have to think about the words. Instead, she could concentrate on Amri’s face. With every grimace, she stroked his cheek, and with every blink of his eyes, she sang a little more confidently.

When the lullaby ended, he pulled his hand out of her grasp and reached up. He was shaking, but he managed to brush her cheek with his knuckles. It was something he always did upon waking in the morning, or before they closed their eyes to sleep. Naia felt joy bubble up in her chest at the familiar touch. She laughed – though it sounded more like a sob – and held his hand to her face.

“You never sing,” he rasped. “Not unless you have to.”

She pressed her lips briefly against his palm, then smiled down at him. “Only because I sound like a screeching muski.”

He tried to smile for her, but it didn’t last long. He took a deep breath, groaning as he exhaled. “I like hearing you sing. That’s my favorite part of the ceremonies you do with your mother,” he told her, eyelids heavy with exhaustion.

Another favorite she hadn’t known about. She wondered for a moment why he’d never shared this with her. Or had she just not been listening?

Naia brushed it aside, determined to focus on keeping him relaxed. “Do you like my singing as much as you like Kylan’s?” she asked, keeping her voice light and teasing.

“Almost,” he joked back, mirth in his eyes despite his pain.

Naia’s breath caught in her chest as the truth hit her anew. She’d nearly lost him. His smile. His jokes. His optimism. His mischief and his bravery, his knowledge. His heart.

“Well, that’s nice of you to say,” she breathed, doing her best to keep the swell of emotion out of her voice.

Naia set about braiding his hair back to keep it out of his way. She started to sing again, concentrating on keeping her voice and hands steady. The Morning Song was familiar to her, now. She’d memorized it over the past week – had sung the song to him every morning at first light, and again with Embryn and Cade during their daily visits. As she trailed her fingers through his lank hair, she couldn’t bring herself to meet his wondering eyes. If she did, she was afraid she’d lose the quiet battle she was fighting with the fresh tears clouding her vision.

Naia glanced up at Lahni as she finished the braid and felt reassured when the older woman gave her a firm nod. Finally, she looked back down at Amri and gave him a watery smile.

“Any requests?” She meant to sound cheerful, but instead she just sounded like what she was – exhausted, raw, and particularly weepy.

“That one again,” he whispered, reaching up to wipe a tear from her eye. “Over and over.”

And so she sang it again and again as dusk turned into night, until he finally gave in to exhaustion and fell asleep.

* * *

“What did you promise him, Gurjin?”

The question hung between them as they sat together on Naia’s cot, heavy as the mists that covered the swamp at first light.

She searched her twin’s face. She could read him easily. Reluctance – he didn’t want to tell her. Fear – he was afraid of what she’d say or what she’d do. Guilt, then resolve.

He turned to face her and held out his left hand for a dreamfast. “You should see it.”

She hesitated. “I don’t want to see him like that again.”

He nodded. “I don’t want to, either.”

“Then why?” Naia demanded.

His eyes – mirrors of her own – filled with tears. “So you’ll forgive me,” he admitted.

She pressed her hand to his and closed her eyes.

_Surrounded by hulking black bodies. Clicking, louder and louder. Rian down, bleeding heavily from a deep cut through his hamstring. Amri’s voice from across the field, telling him to get down. Waving rows of prairie grasses obscuring his vision. The sound of a blast._

_Amri’s face, triumphant. Amri, plucked like fruit from the vine. Amri, splitting open. Spilling blood._

_A second blast._

_Kylan screaming for him. A lake of gore. Blood, bone, muscle, sinew…._

_“You have to be what he needs.”_

_Dark eyes, pupils blown and wild with pain._

_“I wasn’t going to let them take me.” Blood in his mouth, blood on his teeth. Blood on his hands. So much blood._

_Shattered bones and a ruined chest. Punctures and shreds. Not enough air, so much blood._

_“Return me to Thra, Gurjin.” Amri, giving up._

_A refusal. “I’m going to fight, so you need to fight.”_

_“But if-”_

_A promise. “If there’s nothing I can do, I’m not going to let you suffer, brother.”_

_Healing. Movement. Screaming wind – screaming. Blood, so much blood._

_So many hours._

_“Return me to Thra.”_

_A refusal._

_“Return me to Thra.”_

_Glowing hands._

_“Return me to Thra.”_

_A dying organ._

_“It would be a kindness.”_

_Agreement, and yet…_

_“Return me to Thra.”_

_Rivers and dams. So much blood._

_“Return me to Thra.”_

_His brother._

_“Return me to Thra.”_

_His sister._

Naia pulled her hand away, clutching at her chest as she jammed her eyes shut. Gurjin gathered her in his strong, safe arms. He held her as she struggled for breath. As she struggled to cope with the thought of Amri begging for death. As she struggled with the idea of Gurjin being the one to do it.

Slowly, her mind cleared. Kylan, as usual, was right. It _would_ have been a kindness.

“I’m sorry, Naia,” Gurjin whispered, regret coloring his tone.

She shook her head, buried her face in her brother’s mass of braids, and hugged him tight.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

* * *

Naia had dozed off, slumped forward in her chair. After the emotional toll of the previous night, she’d felt exhausted, and had only woken once – to move from her cot in the corner to her chair at Amri’s bedside early that morning. Her head was pillowed on her arms, and while it wasn’t the most comfortable position, she felt warm in the light of the midday suns.

She stirred as she felt a hand brushing through her locs, gentle and tender. She forced her eyes open despite how heavy they felt, expecting to see Laesid or Kylan standing beside her. Instead, she found a pair of familiar deep, dark eyes looking down at her.

He was lying on his right side, curled around the space where she’d been resting her head. He’d been awake for a while, she thought, judging by the half-empty glass of water and empty vial of sogflower wine on the tray beside his bed. His color was better than it had been all week, and although she could still see pain in his eyes, it wasn’t all-encompassing the way it had been the night before.

She sat up and reached toward him. He grasped her hand and pulled her back down, so close that their foreheads were nearly touching.

“Hi crawlie-foot,” she whispered.

“Hi,” he whispered back, his voice still scratchy and thick from disuse.

“It’s good to see your eyes open.” Naia felt guilty as she began to sob in earnest, the weight of the last eight days falling away. Amri trailed his left hand up and down her arm, and the simple gesture was so familiar that it made her heart ache.

There was so much she wanted to say to him. That she hadn’t known what to do when confronted with the possibility that she’d lose him. That he was cherished, not just by her, but by everyone he met. That she wished she’d pushed harder when she’d asked him to send someone else that morning. That he meant everything to her, that her world would cave in without him in it.

“Breathe, Naia,” he rasped, doing his best to comfort her.

She should be the one comforting him, she knew, but she couldn’t stop the flood of emotion from breaking free. “I thought you were going to die,” she choked out. Naia leaned into his touch, the battle against her tears long-since lost. “You can’t leave me. You just can’t.” It sounded harder than she’d intended, less plaintive and more like an order.

He said nothing – just watched her with those beautiful, dark eyes. His breathing was labored, and intellectually, she knew why. She knew that every muscle in his torso was likely bruised from the healing of his rib cage the night before. She knew his collapsed lung was still on the mend. She knew these things, and yet she couldn’t prevent the panic from creeping back in.

The panic coupled with what Gurjin had showed her the previous night made her feel shattered all over again. She felt herself losing control, felt her hands starting to shake and her heart racing. “I love you,” she told him. “You can’t – I just… I need you. I can’t give you back to Thra.” Naia’s voice broke, and she lost all sense of composure. Amri sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against hers. She fought to control herself as she placed her hand against his cheek. “I thought I was going lose you,” she repeated. “I can’t lose you, Amri.”

He ran his fingers through her hair again. It was soothing, and she closed her eyes, focusing on controlling her tears and her breath. “Come here,” he whispered, tugging weakly on her hand to get her to stand. “Come and lie down with me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she protested, wiping at her eyes.

He scoffed, and for some reason, it made her feel a little better. “I hurt, anyway,” he insisted.

She sank down onto the bed, careful not to jostle him. He straightened out to make room for her, then pulled her down to lie beside him. If it weren’t for his sunken cheeks and the shadows under his eyes, or the way he was panting as if he’d been running, they might be back in their quarters, sharing the same pillow.

When he’d caught his breath, he cradled her face in one hand, tracing the line of her cheekbone with his thumb. His thumb caught on her lips, and their eyes met.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. It was soft, at first, a gentle thing that made her heart flutter like a moth’s wings. Slowly, the kiss intensified as they found one another again, as she rediscovered his familiar taste and the way he always lingered over her lower lip. She felt her heart slow down, felt the panic and fear fade away as she settled in his hands.

“I love you, Naia,” he told her, his voice ragged with emotion as he pulled away. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promised – and she believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading this heart/lung/kidney/trash can fire (description courtesy beingheretoo) of a fic! I love all of your lovely comments! Some of them make me laugh (especially yours, thirdstageofdeath), and all of them just make my day/month/year. It makes me feel great that there are people out there enjoying this little piece of hurt/comfort. This installment was a struggle, as evidenced by the entire month it took me to write it... but I'm pretty happy with the end result. Now that Amri is awake, we'll be venturing into the last few arcs of this story, and resolving some issues that Naia and Amri desperately need to come to an agreement on. Our "hurt" isn't entirely over - but we're definitely in the "injury recovery" portion, now. (Forgive any typos... I'll be back to fix them later, but I've looked at this so much that I can't even see it straight anymore, at the moment.)
> 
> Thanks again, and I hope you had wonderful holidays and have a very Happy New Year! <3
> 
> Chapter Playlist:  
> -Alps by Novo Amor and Ed Tullet  
> -Let Go by Chama Wijnen  
> -Not About Angels by Birdy  
> -By Night by Puzzle Muteson  
> -Civilian by Wye Oak  
> -You Matter to Me by Drew Gehling and Jessie Mueller


	5. Chapter 5

_When there's nothing to give  
Well, how can we ask for more?_

_-Delicate by Damien Rice_

* * *

Amri didn’t feel comfortable, exactly, but he felt calm. He basked in the warm, early morning light of the Rose Sun, watching the silver-pink rays glitter on the lake outside of his sick room. He could hear chatter from the Glenfoot and the calls of hunters in the canopy. The light, the sounds – they were familiar, the backdrop to his every morning. This morning was different, though. He wondered if he’d ever appreciate another morning as much as he appreciated this one. He’d been granted a sunrise when he’d expected only an endless night.

When he’d accepted that vial of sedative from Maudra Laesid, he’d been certain that he’d never get to see the suns rise again. He’d felt death nibbling at his fingers and toes. He’d hoped that he would go peacefully, at least, surrounded by nearly everyone left in the world who loved him. Everyone except her – he couldn’t bear that goodbye.

But here he was. Alive. Breathing in the scent of his favorite sweet buns, wafting through the air from the Great Smerth. Hearing sounds he thought he’d never hear again, and others he’d never thought he’d hear at all. Naia was sitting at his side, singing a song that sounded like home, accompanied by their best friend’s _firca_ and the steady beats of Drenchen drums.

Then, the room spun. His stomach lurched, and he sat up in a rush. Every part of his body protested the sudden movement. His muscles burned, and Amri felt as if his bones were grinding into dust, or maybe ash. He leaned over the edge of the bed as he began to retch, and the motion sent white hot bursts of pain through his body. His arms were weak, already shaking from the effort of holding himself up. Amri’s chest throbbed with each spasm of his stomach, and a groan escaped him as he reached for Naia.

Naia immediately sprang to her feet, propping his body against her torso to provide support. He clung to her waist, and suddenly Kylan was there, too, kneeling in front of him on the floor.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Amri’s forehead was dripping with sweat, and his hands were clammy where he held on to Naia. “I’m gonna throw up,” he said, his voice breaking.

He couldn’t concentrate as Naia issued a series of instructions to Kylan. He could only stare at the floor, keeping his eyes closed as he fought to keep the nausea at bay. Amri felt Naia’s hand on his back, running up and down the length of his spine, and he tried to focus on her soothing touch instead of on how sick he felt.

Kylan returned and placed an empty basin on the floor beneath Amri’s face. “Do what you need to do, Amri. We’ve got you. Don’t we, Naia?”

“Hold him up. Gently, and stay on his right side if you can.” Naia didn’t sound like herself – she was timid and much less confident than Amri had ever known her to be.

“Do you want me to go and get your mother?” Kylan asked, hesitating.

“No. It’s okay.” Even to Amri’s ears, she didn’t sound convincing. “I’m okay,” she repeated, insistent.

Kylan stepped closer, and Naia transferred Amri’s weight to him. Amri’s stomach began to buck again, and his body felt like it was tearing itself to pieces as he coughed up bile and a black, grainy substance that looked like the dregs of apeknot bark _ta_.

“It’s blood,” she explained, kneeling before him. “It looks old, but I need to check.”

“I’ve got him. And so do you,” Kylan assured her.

Naia pulled the sheet away from Amri’s body and placed her hands against his chest. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to look down at his torso, yet. He could feel it burning with every breath. The skin was tight and sore, and it pulled every time he moved. Naia’s hands began to glow, a pale, flickering blue. Her skin was cool against his scar.

Naia leaned down, looking Amri straight in the eyes. “Try not to fight it. It’ll only feel worse if you do. Just let it out, okay?” He nodded, breathing heavily as he leaned against his friend. The blue glow from her hands strengthened as her eyes slid shut.

Kylan was talking to him, but Amri heard none of it. Instead, as he continued to empty his stomach, he tuned everything else out and focused on the light of the Rose Sun dappled along the floor of his room.

He was alive.

He was grateful.

He could get through this.

* * *

Days passed. The pain did not.

Amri was tired in a way he’d never been before. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be drained – but somehow, he didn’t think so. There was a curious absence of the existential dread he related with that word – a curious absence of most feelings, really – and he supposed that draining was more about the mind than it was about the body. He’d been drained, in a way. Drained of most of his blood, and certainly of his energy – but he wasn’t sure about his _vliya_. That, he supposed, was intact. He couldn’t bring himself to ask about it just in case he was wrong. ~~~~

Depleted was perhaps a better word for how he felt. The last inch in a barrel of wine, perhaps, or a dried-up pond in desperate need of rain. The last few sips of _ta_ , gone cold.

He was so depleted that all he did was sleep, and in those few moments when he was awake, he daydreamed about sleeping again. He daydreamed while his body violently purged the old, clotted blood that had settled in his stomach. The same blood that had coated his teeth and his tongue when he’d been trapped on the Garthim’s claw. Had it been over a week ago, already? It felt like just yesterday. He daydreamed while the healers willed away the fragments of bone that remained scattered throughout his hip socket. They felt like tiny knives, but their forced removal felt like burning. A distant fire in the night – a star exploding, perhaps, or maybe melting. He much preferred the daydreams to either knives or fire. ~~~~

They were better than the nightmares, too. The nightmares all involved pressure and clicking and drowning or suffocating or perhaps both – he thought they might be the same thing. Sure, one typically involved water, and the other air, but one could suffocate on blood, too, couldn’t they? Or would that just be drowning? Had anyone had ever thought of that nuance? Was there a word for that? Aspiration, maybe. He’d heard that word a couple of times, too, usually when the healers had him face down, leaning over the side of the bed while he retched and threw up endless amounts of bile. That could be the right one for the nightmares…

He slept more soundly when Naia was curled up beside him. Something about having her there kept the nightmares at bay. More often, though, his bones fought back, refusing to allow him any type of comfort at all. Even the slightest unexpected movement would send bolts of lightning through his body. He’d try to bury his face in his pillow and stay quiet, but she’d always catch on and leave the bed, holding his hand instead as he groaned through gritted teeth until the pain passed.

Even if she wasn’t sleeping next to him, though, she was still always by his side. It was new. It reminded him of their journey three trine ago, and he liked knowing she was there throughout the day – even when he was daydreaming or sick or burning. He didn’t like her swollen eyes or the way she hardly ate anything or the fact that she had to be forced to sleep.

Or at least, he didn’t usually.

He felt, sometimes, like a Darkened thing. He hadn’t seen the Crystal, but even so… Yes, something of his had been drained away, something he couldn’t name. His optimism, perhaps, or his goodness. Thoughts kept springing into his head, and they were angry, cold and sad. He thought often about his brush with death. About what it had taken for her to put him first, for once. He tried to push that thought away, but it refused to go. Instead, it festered beneath the surface. There were moments when he felt triumph at the sight of her tears – a triumph that bubbled in his gut and flooded his veins with an ugliness that was entirely unfamiliar to him.

Yes, depleted... Nearly empty. Used up.

Reduced.

* * *

Rian followed Maudra Laesid down the hallway toward Amri’s room. He was pushing a rolling chair and feeling apprehensive. He’d only seen Amri once since the Grottan man had been pulled out of sedation, and he didn’t think Amri even remembered the visit. For the entirety of Rian’s time in the room, he’d been silent, staring at the glow-moss on the ceiling with distant, clouded eyes.

The last time they’d spoken had been when Rian accepted what they both thought might be Amri’s last dreamfast. The last time he’d heard his voice, Amri had been screaming. Rian was certain that Amri wouldn’t be pleased to see him. Not after the pain Rian had caused him when they’d pulled the Garthim’s claw from his body. Not after being the distraction that had caused him to be injured in the first place.

He had no idea why Maura Laesid had sent for him, of all people. Surely Gurjin or Kylan would have been the better choice for this… maybe even Bellanji. They were all closer to Amri than he was. Gurjin and Kylan had kept him alive. Still, he’d been summoned by a _maudra_ , and it wasn’t as if he could say no.

He paused as they entered the room, lingering near the doorway. Amri was awake, though he looked drowsy. He’d curled up on his right side, and he appeared to be watching Naia, who was fast asleep in the chair beside his bed. Laesid nodded her head toward Naia and raised an eyebrow. “There’s a small blessing… we won’t have to pry her away from him.”

“Would it be bad if she came along?” Rian asked quietly.

Laesid held his gaze – her bright blue eyes unnerved him. She considered Amri, then turned back to Rian. “He puts her well-being before his own, in my observation. Sometimes to a fault. Would you agree?”

“Yeah,” Rian admitted. “More often than not, actually.”

“She needs that – someone who will take care of her when she isn’t able to take care of herself. Right now, though, he’s the one who needs taking care of. He needs some time to process his own emotions without having to worry about hers.” With a worried smile, she stepped away.

Rian left the rolling chair near the entryway and followed her toward Amri’s bed. Laesid moved gracefully across the room despite her limp. Rian was still adjusting to his own altered gait, and he felt like an ambling, newborn landstrider in her wake.

Amri glanced between the two of them, and upon seeing Rian, his lips curved up. It wasn’t a smile – more like the impression of one. “Rian the Reckless, twice in one week. That’s more than I usually see you in half a trine. What happened? Someone dying?” Rian felt as if there was ice in his lungs. He knew that Amri was trying to joke, but he couldn’t bring himself to respond. Not with the way he still looked - too pale, too still, too lifeless. Instead, he leaned against the foot of the bed and gazed at the blankets bunched around Amri’s feet.

“I wasn’t sure you’d remember me coming by...”

“It was a bad day,” he mumbled. “I was glad you were here, I just-”

Rian shook his head. “You don’t have to explain.”

“And what about today? Good or bad?” Laesid asked. She placed her hand on Amri’s forehead, and Rian expected to see the familiar blue glow of dream-healing. It didn’t come, though. Amri leaned into her touch, and Rian realized with a pang that Laesid wasn’t a _maudra_ or a healer at that moment, but rather a mother. Rian thought of his own mother - the way she’d cradled his face when he had a fever. The way she’d always kissed his wounds after cleaning him up or stitching him back together. How distraught he’d felt when he’d gone to the Castle and that softness was suddenly missing from his life. Amri’s parents had died when he was young, hadn’t they? How long had it been since he’d felt this type of motherly, comforting touch?

Amri didn’t meet Laesid’s gaze. “Everything hurts, but I haven’t thrown up, yet. I suppose the verdict is still out.”

“Maybe you’ll be able to eat something this afternoon.” Amri looked doubtful, and Laesid brushed his hair back. “Time to check your ribs, love,” Laesid told him.

Laesid pulled his blankets back, and Amri shivered despite the warm air. He was wearing a thin blue shirt and the loose-fitting short pants that were common in Sog – Rian supposed they were convenient, what with the heat and the Drenchen tendency to move through the lake and surrounding canals multiple times a day. Amri had lost so much weight that the clothes hung loosely on his frame. Rian didn’t like the sight of it – Amri had never been bulky, but his body had always been strong. Like the woodworkers and the fishermen, his physique was toned and athletic, and clearly showed that he worked with his hands every day. It was strange to see him looking so diminished.

Rian watched as Amri rolled flat on his back, obviously accustomed to what came next. Laesid switched fluidly from mother to healer, examining his torso with gentle prodding and whispered questions. Amri answered most of them with his expressions and his breath, which increased substantially every time she pressed on his ribs.

When Laesid finally pulled her hands away, Amri slumped against his pillows, pale and sweaty. The _maudra_ frowned down at him, considering something.

“Amri.” She waited for him to look up. “If the pain is too much, you need to be honest with me. Sedating you again isn’t an option, but we can try low doses of pain medication and keep a close eye on your kidney funct-”

“I wish you’d all stop trying to change my mind! I said no, and I mean it. It’s my choice, and I’m not going to risk damaging the only kidney I’ve got left just because I’m uncomfortable,” he snapped. “I’d like the opportunity to grow old, however unlikely that is. I might be hurt, but I’m not weak. I’ll take the pain in exchange for a life.” He breathed heavily, pressing a hand against his chest. Laesid was silent as he breathed through it, exchanging a glance with Rian. When his breath had settled, he dropped his hand, radiating guilt and regret. “I’m sorry, _maudra_. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that-”

“That wasn’t you talking. Just your anger,” Laesid murmured, pulling the blankets back up around his torso. “I don’t want you to suffer needlessly. If we’re able to keep you comfortable without causing damage, there’s no reason not to try it.”

“It’s manageable,” he insisted. “I can handle it. If I can’t, I’ll say something.”

Laesid looked skeptical, but she didn’t argue with him any further. “Did Naia give you your morning medicines?”

“No,” he breathed. “I didn’t want to wake her.” Laesid walked toward the medicine cabinets on the far wall, but Rian remained in his place against the foot of the bed, watching as Amri pressed his eyes closed and pushed his hand against his chest again. Rian understood Amri’s outburst all too well. The injured man was rattled by his new circumstances. He didn’t have many options, and choosing the pain instead of battling against it gave him some small sense of control.

“Hey, Amri?” Rian glanced back at Maudra Laesid, then took a few steps closer to his friend and lowered his voice. “I’m going to say one thing and then I’ll shut up, alright?”

Amri opened one eye, acknowledging that he was listening.

“You don’t have to prove your strength by being miserable. Not to any of us. You survived an entire night with the worst wound I’ve ever seen, and you’ve survived every day since.”

Amri closed his eye and took a deep breath. “I’m not trying to prove it to anyone except me,” he admitted in a whisper.

The two men were silent as Amri’s breathing slowed back to normal. Rian could hear the steady beat of the drums and the distant murmur of chatter from the Glenfoot. It was familiar, and Rian wondered if it was soothing or if it just made things worse.

“She hardly ever leaves that chair,” Amri said softly. His gaze was fixed on Naia again.

Rian looked at her. Naia’s head was slumped onto her right shoulder. She’d rested her legs over one arm of the chair and curled into a ball. The angle at which her wings rested against the opposite arm of the chair looked distinctly uncomfortable, as did the flat wooden surface of the seat. Her eyes were puffy, and Rian let out a long sigh.

“We’ve been telling her to sleep in the cot ever since you got hurt, but you know Naia.”

“Yeah. If it’s not her idea, then it’s not happening,” Amri mumbled. His voice was bitter, and his expression suddenly dark.

Rian hesitated for only a breath before moving away from Amri’s bed. He walked to Naia and knelt in front of her, gathering her in his arms as gently as possible to avoid waking her. He carefully rolled her head onto his shoulder, and as he lifted her, he felt her wings unfold and hang limply toward the floor. “Well, that’s something you don’t see every day,” he mumbled, shifting her higher to keep her wings off the floor.

Rian had only seen women lose control of their wings a few times. It had happened to Deet twice, first after receiving the Sanctuary Tree’s power in Grot, and again after absorbing massive amounts of darkened energy during the battle of Stone-in-the-Wood. Mira had been unable to fly for a week after a head injury during training at the castle, and he recalled several malnourished Spriton women who’d escaped the Garthim in the forest and had to climb trees for safety when their wings were non-responsive. He immediately felt guilty. They all knew how single-minded Naia could be – they should have been paying closer attention. What if she’d tried to glide from one of the balconies in Great Smerth like this?

Naia’s wings looked less lustrous than usual. Close-up, he noticed that her skin looked brittle and dry as autumn leaves. Rian recognized this ailment, at least. Gurjin’s skin had been dehydrated repeatedly during their basic training, when he’d still been unaccustomed to the dry air and unable to soak in the baths for long periods of time. It was strange to see Naia that way, though – the moisture in the air in Sog was usually enough to keep Drenchen skin hydrated.

Amri’s resentful expression faded into distress at the sight, and he slowly pushed himself into a seated position. “This happened once before,” he mumbled, making a clear effort to focus. “When we were sailing the Crystal Sea.” Amri reached out to touch her hand, and Rian saw fear flicker across his face, followed closely by guilt. He was suddenly himself again, no longer a creature of agony and resentment. Rian hadn’t seen this version of Amri since that night by the campfire when they’d all been happy, whole, and fearless. “What do I do?”

“Nothing,” Rian told him firmly. “Let Laesid and I worry about her. You need to focus on you.” Rian turned to face Naia’s mother. “ _Maudra_?” The older woman was busy grinding herbs with a pestle and mortar, and a half dozen vials containing different solutions sat on the counter in front of her. “Her wings…”

She set the pestle down immediately and retrieved her cane. “Let’s get her into bed,” she instructed, calm and collected as ever. Rian heard the blankets rustling behind him, but before he had a chance to turn, Laesid’s eyes focused on the injured Grottan. “Amri, stay where you are. I need to check her over, and I can’t do that if I’ve got to worry about you collapsing, too.”

Amri grumbled behind him, and Rian bit the inside of his lip to keep a straight face as he crossed the room toward Naia’s cot. He understood, now, where Naia had learned the art of giving a proper scolding. His leg felt unsteady under the added weight, but despite the way it shook, Rian was able to make it across the space without stumbling. He set Naia down in the center of the cot, careful to place her on her side so that she wouldn’t injure her wings.

Laesid lowered herself onto the cot at her daughter’s side and began to examine her. Rian was quiet as she checked Naia’s gills, which were vented in the morning’s humidity, then inspected her wings with practiced hands. The older woman’s hands began to glow, and she closed her eyes.

After a few short moments, she brought one hand to Naia’s face. The puffiness under Naia’s eyes receded, and slowly, the rest of her skin began to look less dry.

She wasn’t completely back to normal when Laesid pulled her hand away, but she looked better than she had before. Naia released a sigh and rolled onto her stomach, resting her head on her folded arms. Laesid brushed Naia’s locs away from her face. Her eyes were bright and shining, and there was a tiny smile on her face that Rian didn’t understand. The moment was so tender that Rian nearly looked away.

“Is she alright, _maudra_?” he asked, hesitant.

“She’ll be just fine,” she said softly.

“Can I get anything for her?”

She shook her head absently. “No. She just needs a long soak when she wakes up, and to get some rest. But if you can give Amri those medicines and keep him in that bed while I finish up here, that would be a big help,” she requested.

“Of course.” Rian watched briefly as the _maudra_ began to fold Naia’s wings back into place along her back, then stepped away to give them some privacy.

He retrieved the vials Laesid had left on the back counter, then crossed back to Amri’s bedside and slid into the chair Naia had previously occupied. He placed the vials on Amri’s tray table, and Amri reached immediately for two vials containing a dark green substance. He drained them quickly, then relaxed against his pillows, his eyes locked on Naia. “Is she alright? And why are you limping? Didn’t you tell anyone about your leg?”

“Laesid says she’ll be fine. My leg is fine, too. I just lived up to my nickname and did something reckless.” Rian smirked, but when he realized his friend was genuinely concerned, he shrugged. “Nerve damage,” he explained. He thought absently about his crossbow and scabbard, and about the Dual Glaive. They wouldn’t be as heavy as carrying another person, but carrying any extra weight was likely to put strain on his leg. Perhaps it was good that Naia had forbidden him from going on alone to the Wellspring. She’d told him he’d need time to strengthen his hamstring and adjust to his new, reduced range of mobility. Rian realized, begrudgingly, that she was right.

Rian gestured at the empty vials, trying to distract him. “What was in those?”

“Flume mint,” Amri mumbled, still focused on his girlfriend’s prone figure across the room.

“Very informative,” Rian quipped with a laugh. “And what does it do?”

“Helps me breathe better.” Amri was quiet for a long moment, and then he finally tore his gaze away from Naia and focused on Rian. “Please tell me you didn’t use my salve on your leg.” Rian raised an eyebrow and Amri groaned. “You should’ve just left it al-”

“I know, I know. I’ve already been scolded plenty. Save your breath.” Rian handed him another vial, this one filled with something the color of tar. “Ask Naia about it when she wakes up. I’m sure she’ll love the opportunity to tell you how much of an idiot I am.”

Amri’s lips pulled up into the not-quite-smile once again. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Rian watched as he methodically drank every vial of the various medicines Maudra Laesid had prepared for him. Some smelled horrible, and Amri coughed after ingesting them, pausing to catch his breath each time.

When he was done, he rested back against the pillows to stare at the ceiling, and Rian could see him retreating to that distant place in his head. He scrambled for something to talk about, anything that would keep him from shutting down completely.

“Deet’s on her way here, you know.”

Amri’s ears flicked with mild interest. “What for?”

“To see you, of course. And to help Cade and Embryn with the apothecary while you recover.”

A real smile lit Amri’s face. “They like her. That’s perfect.”

“I’ve been trying to convince her to relocate to Sog until the baby’s born ever since we found out she was pregnant,” Rian told him. “I owe you one for getting her to come out here.”

Amri chuckled, then groaned as he gripped his chest. “If I’d known this was all it would take, I could have saved you a lot of trouble, huh?”

Rian heard Maudra Laesid’s cane tapping against the wooden floor as she crossed the room. He stood so that he could offer her the chair and smiled down at Amri. “We’ll have to coordinate better next time.”

“Did she agree to stay until the baby’s born, then?” Amri asked.

“Not yet, but she will,” Rian said, confidently. “Especially with the rest of you pestering her, too.”

Maudra Laesid approached Amri’s bed, but she didn’t take the empty chair Rian offered. Instead, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to Amri’s forehead.

Amri looked worried as she pulled away, and Rian gathered that this wasn’t a normal occurrence. “What’s wrong with Naia?”

She beamed at him, and Amri visibly relaxed. “Nothing’s wrong. She just needs to rest, and to eat. Between all of us, I think we can handle that, don’t you?” Amri nodded, and she cocked an eyebrow at him. “Now, how do you feel about getting out of this room?”

Amri’s ears shot up. Rian grinned at the expression on his face. “Do I get to go home?”

“Not yet. We’ll have to wait until you’re having more good days than bad ones to send you home.” Amri’s ears dropped, and Laesid squeezed his hand. “I wanted to take you to the mineral baths today. The water is very warm, and it could be soothing. You’ll be able to relax a bit, I hope, since the water will take the pressure off your skeletal system.”

Amri looked apprehensive. “You think it will help?”

She nodded. “I do. We can start strengthening your hip again. The baths are a good place for that. That’s how I learned to walk again after I lost my leg.” She glanced sidelong at Rian. “It’ll help your leg, as well, you fool creature.” Rian’s cheeks turned pink, and he glared at Amri as the other man coughed out a laugh. “It’s up to you, Amri. If you don’t think you can handle that much movement, we can try it another day.”

Amri peered around Maudra Laesid, gauging the distance from his bed to the door. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk that far.”

She gestured vaguely behind her at the chair Rian had pushed into the room. “You don’t have to walk the whole way. Just a few steps from your bed to a rolling chair, and a few more from the chair to the baths. That’s more than enough to start with.”

Amri was nervous. Still, Rian felt heartened that his friend was also hopeful. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let’s try it.”

Rian retrieved the rolling chair and placed it close to Amri’s bed. Laesid helped the injured man to sit up and move to the edge of the bed. Amri was already sweating, his eyes locked on the floor beneath his feet, and his knuckles were white where he gripped Laesid’s forearm.

“If it’s too much today, there’s always tomorrow,” she reminded him.

“No,” he whispered. “Please, I want to try.”

“How are your ribs?”

“On fire,” he groaned. “And the scar aches. It aches all the time,” Amri admitted.

Laesid rubbed a hand comfortingly along his spine, and Amri refused to meet Rian’s eyes as he struggled to get it under control. Rian hated watching it. Seeing Amri like this – cheerful, fearless Amri – made his stomach churn.

Amri finally looked up, locking his gaze on the chair. “Okay. Let’s go again,” he said, voice firm.

Laesid beckoned Rian toward them. “Rian, sit next to him and get your left arm around his shoulders – there, good. Amri, I want you to push your weight against Rian’s side and against my arm to help you stand up, okay?” He nodded, and on Laesid’s count, he planted his feet on the ground and pushed against them.

Rian knew it was a bad idea almost immediately. The Grottan man cried out and stumbled forward, his eyes glazing over with pain, and Rian caught him as he swayed. Laesid guided them back to the bed, and Rian slowly lowered him to sit on the edge once again.

“Amri, what did you feel?” Laesid pressed, her hands immediately glowing bright blue. “Is there new pain?” Amri shook his head, but he didn’t respond verbally. He had his free hand clamped over his mouth, and he was trying desperately not to throw up. What little color he’d had drained away, and Laesid swore under her breath as she hurried away to the medicine cabinet. Amri squeezed his arm hard enough to bruise, but Rian didn’t care. With every spasm of Amri’s body, Rian hated the Skeksis a little more.

Laesid hurried back with a jar of paste in her hand. “Hold him steady,” she instructed, and Rian did his best. She opened the jar and held it up to Amri. A sharp, spicy scent filled the air, and Rian blinked rapidly as his eyes stung. “It’s _zingi_ root, to stop the nausea,” she explained. “Breathe deep. The smell will help.”

Amri did as he was told, dragging breath after labored breath in through his nose. Finally, he dropped his hand from his mouth and reached out. Laesid held the jar as Amri scooped out a generous amount, smearing it over his lips. Rian had seen this before – it was an old Grottan remedy. Deet had used it early in her pregnancy to stop the nausea. This variant smelled stronger than what she’d used, though.

Laesid and Rian helped the injured man to lie back on his pillows, and as soon as he was comfortable, she placed a hand on his torso and closed her eyes once more. Amri was shivering despite the heat, and Rian tucked his blankets around his body.

“Amri – what happened? What did you feel?” But his friend was already gone, somewhere far inside his own head and out of reach.

Laesid opened her eyes and pulled her hands away. “His hip is enflamed, and there’s some new swelling around his spine. Everything else is the same.” She gazed at Amri’s face, at his clouded eyes and stony expression. “I shouldn’t have pushed him. I could tell it was a bad day… I’m afraid all I’ve done is make things worse,” she confessed.

Rian placed a hand on her shoulder. “He’ll get through it. Today’s a bad day, but like you said. There’s always tomorrow.”

* * *

Naia sat on the boardwalk just outside of the hospital entrance, waiting for Embryn and Cade as she kicked her feet back and forth in the water below. She hadn’t been outside of the hospital for nearly two weeks, and she felt some of the tension melting away as she gazed over the Glenfoot and up at the towering heights of Great Smerth. A group of elders stood waist-deep in the water, silent and lost in their waterfast. She contemplated the way they breathed deeply, at peace in their commune with the calm waters of the lake.

She could use some peace. She’d barely slept for the first four days he’d been awake, only dozing while he napped during the day. She’d started trying to sleep at night after her wings had failed her earlier that week, and at her mother’s insistence, but it was still hard to keep her eyes closed. Every time she did, it was like she was back in their chambers, the midnight breeze tickling her wings as his screams echoed through the glade behind her.

It had been six days since Amri woke. He’d been throwing up old blood for the first few, but even when the black, tarry substance had finally abated, his nausea had not. He still got sick regularly and he couldn’t keep any solid foods down. Despite her mother insisting it was normal after such a traumatic injury, his lack of nourishment made Naia nervous.

He was in pain. Every moment of every day, he was haunted by it. She could see it in the way he held his shoulders, in the creases of his skin when he closed his eyes. She could hear it in his shaking breath. She could feel it the way he barely moved on those rare occasions when he fell asleep with his head on her shoulder or in her lap. Laesid and Collum agreed that regular use of medicinal options for pain relief were too risky as his body continued to adjust to the loss of a major organ, but they still offered intermittent doses. He refused them all. He didn’t want to take the chance. That knowledge didn’t help Naia’s anxiety any – not when he was groaning and gripping at his chest, or as tears streamed down his face when Collum broke down the bone fragments in his hip joint. Amri had been able to avoid additional invasive surgery, but it had been horrible to watch.

Most of all, she hated the way he seemed to vanish from his own body when the pain got bad enough – the way he didn’t protest or squirm, and instead just stared without seeing anything at all.

It didn’t feel like he’d given up, exactly. She’d seen him give up twice before – first in the Mystic Valley, when he’d taken her brother’s overprotective words to heart and distanced himself from her, and again in Gurjin’s memories when he’d begged repeatedly for the peace of death. His distance didn’t feel the same this time and he certainly wasn’t willing to surrender his life to escape his pain anymore.

No, this wasn’t giving up. Still, Naia was worried about him. He was like a fire that never went out, but his flames seemed to be flickering, now. When he was awake, he was quiet and detached, staring off into the waters of the swamp with unfocused eyes. At night, though, he trembled and cried out in his sleep, calm only during the rare moments when he was feeling well enough for her to sleep beside him. She was most concerned about the part of him that dream-healing couldn’t help – his mind.

She spotted the two Grottans before they saw her. Embryn was walking backward, talking to Cade animatedly and gesturing up at the canopy. He had to steer her out of the way of other Gelfling, wincing apologetically at each one as they passed. Someone had woven ribbons of a deep Drenchen blue into Embryn’s braids. It suited her. Naia desperately hoped that allowing them to visit Amri today would help him. He’d asked after them a few times, but he’d been so sick and in so much pain that she hadn’t felt comfortable with letting them in to see him. They were more fragile than they looked and seeing him so subdued – so unlike himself – would only hurt them.

Naia pulled her feet from the water and stood as they approached the entrance to the hospital, listening as Embryn chattered away. “…thank goodness for my wings, or I’d have fallen right into the mud. Pemma says I’ve got terrible aim, and I guess she’s right. Either that or I’m just a horrible daylighter. I really thought there was water under-”

“Embryn, please stop talking.” Cade cut her off and pointed at Naia. Embryn barely noticed his exasperation and turned quickly, giving Naia a bright smile.

Naia bit her lip hard to hold in a laugh. “Learning how to traverse the apeknots, are you?”

“Trying. I’m incredibly bad at it,” Embyrn replied without the faintest hint of embarrassment.

“And what about you?” Naia asked Cade. “Are they teaching you how to use the vines to get around up top?”

Cade shrugged. “I’d rather swim.”

“He’s afraid of heights,” Embryn chirped, looking sidelong at him like a smug little sister. He scowled at her, but she ignored him and turned back to Naia. “You’re outside. Is it a good thing that you’re outside?”

“I think so. I wanted to chat with you both about Amri, so I thought I’d come and wait for you here.” She glanced between the two teenagers, both of whom had suddenly serious faces. “Don’t look so glum, it’s not a bad chat.”

Embryn started to pick at her braids while Cade simply frowned down at the boardwalk. “It’s just that last time someone wanted to have a chat about Amri, it was Rian telling us he’d been sliced open by a great ugly brute, so-” She stopped talking abruptly as Cade kicked at her shin.

Naia couldn’t keep her laughter in this time. It felt good, freeing in a way that she hadn’t anticipated. “You remind me so much of Gurjin,” she sighed fondly.

“She does?” Cade asked, scrutinizing Embryn confusedly as if searching for the resemblance.

“He babbles when he’s nervous, too. And teases people at every available opportunity,” Naia explained, and Embryn blushed. “Right. About Amri – he’s been asking for you both.” The two teens brightened, and Naia wondered how it was that all these Gelfling who’d grown up in caves had smiles that shone more brightly than the suns. “He hasn’t been doing so well, though, which is why I haven’t brought you in yet. I wanted to warn you just in case.”

Naia gestured for them to make themselves comfortable, then sank back to the boardwalk to dip her feet into the water once more. The Grottans sank down on either side of her, pulling their pants up around their knees before doing the same.

“He’s in a lot of pain. I feel horrible about it, but there’s not much we can do,” she admitted. Naia leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees and rested her chin in her cupped hands.

“You shouldn’t feel horrible about it,” Cade told her emphatically. “It’s not your fault he got hurt.” Naia let out a heavy breath, but the boy didn’t notice. “It’s the Skeksis’ fault. They’re the ones who should feel horrible.”

“Do they even know how to feel horrible?” Embryn wondered aloud.

“No, they just know how to be it,” Cade mumbled.

Naia shoved away her guilt and collected herself, determined to get the conversation back on track. “So, Amri. He gets sick sometimes. He might throw up while you’re in there – if he does, don’t worry, I’ll help him. It usually passes quickly enough. Sometimes he falls asleep in the middle of conversations or just stares off at nothing, so try not to take it personally or worry if he does that.” Naia looked up into two gloomy faces.

“He sounds miserable,” Cade mumbled.

Naia didn’t contradict him. “I think he just needs some help taking his mind off everything that happened.” She gave them a soft smile. “That’s where you two come in.”

Embryn’s ears drooped as she pulled her feet out of the water and hugged her knees. “I shouldn’t go in. I’ll probably just cry and make him feel even worse.”

Naia bumped Embryn’s shoulder with her own. “It’s okay if you cry. He won’t mind.”

Cade leaned back on his forearms, squinting up at the light filtering through the canopy. “Does he know about the blood thing?”

Naia smirked. “Not yet. I waited to tell him so that he could yell at both of us at once. It’s more efficient that way.”

He pursed his lips and nodded, giving her a rare smirk. “That’s fair.”

“Do you want to head inside, then?” Naia asked, turning first to Embryn and then back to Cade. “I think he’ll be happy to see you. I really think seeing you will help him feel better.”

Cade pushed himself into a seated position, and Embryn sprang to her feet. The younger girl reached down to help Naia up. As soon as Cade was standing, Embryn tucked herself between the two of them and grabbed their hands. “Alright,” she said, sounding braver than she looked. “Together, then.”

They entered the hospital and followed the familiar hallways. Within moments, they were standing just outside of Amri’s room. Embryn’s hand was shaking in her grasp, and Naia gave her a reassuring squeeze before she let go and entered the room.

He’d been dozing when she left, but he was awake now, staring out at the swamp as Eliona adjusted his pillows. She’d propped him into a reclined position. He looked smaller that way, dwarfed by the mountain of support pillows at his back.

“Amri?” she called. His ears flicked back lazily, and he turned away from the swamp to look at her. He didn’t look like he was in too much pain, but he didn’t look happy to see her, either.

“Hey,” he said, a greeting undermined by his listless voice.

She bit the inside of her cheek and took a few steps forward, clearing his line of sight to the doorway. “Hey. If you’re feeling alright, you’ve got visitors.” Embryn and Cade followed her into the room, and a light that had been missing from his eyes flared to life at the sight of them.

Relief broke over her, gentle as the waves in Cera-Na, but with enough force to make her knees feel weak.

* * *

All through the morning and early afternoon, Embryn and Cade joked and teased each other whenever Amri got quiet or needed a moment to catch his breath. Embryn told Amri all about her adventures in the canopies of the swamp with Pemma, and Cade told him about the group of Drenchen and Spriton he’d been spending time with recently. He talked about one more often than the others, a Drenchen girl who worked in the gardens, and Amri and Embryn exchanged knowing winks whenever Cade mentioned her. Amri looked so at ease that Naia felt elated, and when he insisted that the teens stay and visit for as long as they wanted, she agreed.

The younger Grottans left briefly while Amri napped in the early afternoon and returned a short time later with steaming meat pies for themselves and a bowl of blindfish chowder for Naia. For the first time in days, Naia was relaxed enough to feel the bite of hunger. Amri even offered her a smile when he woke up and spotted her empty bowl on the tray at his bedside. Then, he reached for her hand and grasped it loosely, as if he wanted to hold onto her instead of just have something to hold on to. ~~~~

It wasn’t until an hour before first dusk, just after Cade left to help prepare the evening meal, that Embryn began to crumble. Amri’s energy was finally starting to flag, and he was watching the first sun falling toward the horizon with a dazed look that was quickly becoming familiar to Naia.

Naia stepped away briefly to prepare Amri’s nightly doses of sogflower wine and _pipsi_ flower extract and returned to find Embryn in tears. Her eyes were closed, and she had both hands over her mouth, successfully muffling the sounds of her sobs. Amri hadn’t noticed. He was still staring out at the swamp, there but not there. It didn’t surprise Naia, not this time. He’d hardly slept all day, and he’d been more focused throughout the afternoon than he’d been since he’d first come out of sedation. Still, it made her uncomfortable. She was sure that Embryn was feeling the same distress that Naia herself had pushed aside all week.

Naia placed the vials on his bedside table and knelt in front of the younger girl. “Hey – hey, it’s okay to cry, remember? You don’t have to hide it.” Embryn shook her head. “Come on, Embryn, talk to me.”

The young Grottan leaned forward in her chair, covering her face with her hands. She took a great, shuddering breath, and when she found her voice, it was higher than usual. “Why does he look like that?” she demanded. Naia felt confused. Embryn had seen him looking much worse than this – when he was still colorless and pale, on the edge of death. She’d been upset, then, but she was scared now.

“Remember how I said he stares off at nothing sometimes?” Naia reminded her. “This is that.”

“He’s gone. He’s not there anymore. It’s just like back home,” she cried.

Naia didn’t know what that meant, but she tried to soothe her all the same. “It’s hard to see, I know.” It was no use. The younger girl was nearly inconsolable, and Naia felt completely out of her depth. “It scares me, too,” she admitted, hoping that Embryn might calm down if she knew she wasn’t alone in the feeling. “I feel the same as you every single time I see him like this.” The only difference was that Naia couldn’t give in to the panic – not this time. She needed to hold herself together, because she knew what breaking felt like, now, and she never wanted to feel it again.

Naia pulled her into a hug and held her tight, doing her best to be a comforting presence. She felt unsettled and distracted, and slightly empty, as if nothing she could do or say would make Embryn feel any better. Was this how Kylan and Rian had felt that night?

She felt a hand on her back, and she turned, hoping with all her heart that it was Eliona or Pemma, both of whom were much better than she was at handling others’ emotions. Instead, she was shocked to find Amri sitting unsteadily on the edge of his bed, his bare feet on the floor for the first time since he’d been injured. He was pressing his free hand against the center of his chest, and she could feel his other hand shaking against her back. He was in pain, that much was clear. He was still dazed looking, but he wasn’t an empty shell any longer.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, feeling panic rise in her chest immediately as she gently pulled away from Embryn and moved to steady him. “Amri, you should not be trying to get up!”

“I’m not. I just…” He looked past her at where the younger girl was still crying. “Can you get me some pain medication?” Naia’s brow furrowed as she paused. He hadn’t requested any pain relief since the night he’d woken up – not even during the procedures to clean up his hip. He’d been insistent that he needed to avoid using it unless he absolutely needed it.

Why did he absolutely need it now? She pushed back the fear nibbling at her mind. “What’s wrong? What do you feel?” She ran her hands down his left side, gently inspecting his ribs and investigating his skin for new bruising.

Amri gripped her forearm, bringing her exam to a halt. “It’s no worse than usual. I just want enough to take the edge off,” he clarified, glancing guiltily at Embryn. “I don’t want to scare her any more than I already have.” He reached for Naia’s face and brushed his fingers over her cheek. “Or you. I’m sorry, Naia.”

He’d been listening, even when it seemed like he wasn’t there.

“I know I’ve been… distracted. But I didn’t realize-”

“Don’t,” she told him, gentle but firm. “You’re hurting, you have nothing to apologize for.” She leaned into his touch for a short moment, savoring it. “I’ll get you some. Let me help you lie back down, first.”

He shook his head. “Sitting like this feels better.” He gestured vaguely at his left side. “There’s less pressure.”

“Alright.” Naia looked over her shoulder at Embryn. The younger girl still had tears running down her cheeks, but she looked less apprehensive now that Amri’s eyes were focused once again. “Em, will you come and sit with him while I get his medicine?” Naia patted the empty space beside Amri on the bed.

Embryn stood and approached them, wiping at her face. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered, hesitating to sit.

“You won’t, little nurloc,” Amri insisted.

Naia gave them both a weak smile and left them to talk, crossing the room toward the cabinet where they kept his treatments and medications. Behind her, she could hear the two Grottans whispering. Their words were too low to make out, but she recognized Amri’s apologetic tone.

Naia found the bottle containing the pain serum at the back of the shelf, next to the abandoned bottle of _arara_ sedative. Unlike the rest of his medications, this one was untouched. She noted the date on the bottle – he and Laesid had made this batch only two days before the Garthim attack. The thought made her feel sick. Naia removed the cork seal. The serum’s scent was usually refreshing to her, a reminder of the crisp ice and fresh snowfall near Ha’rar. This time, it smelled like thick and cloying sugared mint, and her stomach turned. She hurriedly filled a short glass vial to the mid-line and put the bottle away, pausing to collect herself.

Something about watching his face go blank was even worse than when he’d been unconscious. Laesid and the other healers came in to check on him throughout the day, but they weren’t there every moment like she was. They didn’t see how often he retreated into himself. She’d been holding herself together for his sake. She’d refused to cry about it, especially in front of him – he needed her to be strong for him while he healed. Still, she felt as if she’d begun to fray around the edges again, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to keep up the strong front.

Naia resolved to talk to her mother about working small doses into his daily regimen. She didn’t want to risk his remaining kidney, but allowing him to experience enough pain that he needed to tune out his surroundings to cope wasn’t healthy, either.

She turned, ready to return to his side, but stopped. Amri had his arms wrapped around the young Grottan’s shoulders, and Embryn – careful not to touch his torso – had rested her head on his shoulder. She’d always been reminded of Gurjin and Pemma’s relationship while watching Amri interact with his students, but there was something different about it this time. Something in how protective he looked, maybe, or in the determined set of his shoulders – something that reminded her of her father. Her chest ached at the sight. It felt almost like longing. She didn’t examine the feeling – she was too raw to go down that path. Instead, she brushed it aside, tucking it neatly behind all the other emotions she’d been restraining during the long week, and waited, unwilling to intrude upon the moment.

Amri caught sight of her and waved her over. She approached slowly, taking note of the way he was breathing heavily and clenching his jaw. She passed him the vial, and he pulled away from Embryn as he eagerly tipped the contents into his mouth. Naia picked up the other medicines she’d placed on his tray and handed them to him. “These, too.”

Embryn stood as Naia helped Amri to lie back against his pillows. They were quiet as Amri slowly curled up on his right side, doing his best to find a tolerable position. “I’m going to fall asleep pretty fast as this stuff kicks in, little nurloc,” he warned her. “You can stay if you want, but I’d rather you didn’t waste your evening watching me snore. You should go and fly about with Pemma or visit the armaligs – get your mind off things.”

Embryn wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. “Can I come back tomorrow?” She looked to Naia rather than Amri for the answer.

Naia stepped forward and ruffled her hair. “Come by in the morning to sing, and we’ll see how he’s feeling. My mother needs you and Cade to help make some medicines tomorrow, anyway, since Amri can’t right now.”

Embryn’s eyes went wide. “We get to hang out with Maudra Laesid?”

Amri snorted, then grimaced. “That’s what happens when your teacher gets himself broken. You get promoted in a hurry. But don’t get too excited – she’s tough as the stone back home, and twice as sharp. It’ll be less like hanging out and more like hard work.”

Embryn appeared both apprehensive and excited. “I don’t see why you two can’t do that in here, unless Amri wants peace and quiet. I’ll help, too,” Naia offered.

Amri nodded in agreement. “It was nice, having you two chatting away in here today. It made me feel like we were back in the workshop.” He then reached for Embryn and caught her hand. “Are you going to be okay tonight?”

Embryn looked down, her energy deflating. “Yeah. I’m sorry I freaked out like that, I just-”

“I get it,” Amri told her. “No sorry needed. I just don’t want you to be upset and all alone.” He was already fading, his eyelids growing heavy as he started to relax into the bed.

“I’ll go and stay with Cade tonight. I don’t think he’ll mind,” she whispered.

Amri squeezed her hand. “I don’t think he will, either.” He closed his eyes and let her hand go. “Goodnight, little nurloc. We’ll see you in the morning.”

Embryn turned to Naia and hugged her tight around the middle. “Thank you for letting me see him,” she whispered. The girl was still shaken, but much more in control.

Naia was hesitant to let her leave, but it was clear that Amri was ready to rest. “Thank you for making him smile,” she replied. She pulled away and held Embryn at arm’s length. “You’re sure you’ll be okay?” Embryn gave her a watery smile and a firm nod. “If you can’t sleep, come back. I usually can’t sleep, either. We can keep company with the moons together.”

The younger girl embraced her once again. “Thanks, Naia.”

Naia walked her to the door. She leaned against the doorjamb, watching the Grottan girl retreat, her footsteps much less bouncy than they’d been that morning.

“You’ve gotten close with her.”

Naia glanced over her shoulder to find Amri watching her. He looked exhausted, but his eyes were clearer, and his entire body had lost the tension he’d been holding throughout the evening. She raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Yes, well, I got promoted in a hurry, apparently.” His lips pulled up into his familiar lopsided grin, and Naia pushed off the doorjamb to walk back to him. “Cade likes Rian better, though.”

“I like seeing you with them,” he admitted.

“They’re funny. They bicker a lot. Embryn reminds me of Gurjin, and Cade is so smart and shy. Did you look like him, as a teenager? All limbs and big eyes and awkwardness?” Naia smiled, leaning forward to place support pillows behind his back. She handed him another, which he tucked under his arm, providing gentle pressure against his chest wall and support for his head and neck. Naia tucked a blanket in around him as he settled down. He looked comfortable for the first time since he’d woken up.

“Mm, all limbs and big eyes, yes. Awkwardness, no. I was smooth, even then.” He peeked up at her, a full, real smile on his face.

Naia leaned down to kiss his cheek. “So smooth,” she teased.

“Do you think your mom and Collum will let me have some of this stuff every day if I beg for forgiveness?” Amri sighed, contented.

Naia’s levity waned, and she pulled a chair close to the bed, facing the place where he’d placed his head. “You won’t have to beg. They’ll be happy that you’re finally being honest about how miserable you are.” She curled up in the chair and wrapped her arms around her legs.

Amri reached out and traced shapes on the back of her hand. “I’m alive. If I have to be miserable for a bit to stay that way, then I will.” He blinked lazily a few times, then glanced up at her. “Maybe not every day. I’ll start asking for it when I need it, though,” he assured her.

She laced her fingers with his and leaned her head onto her knees. They were silent for a time, simply gazing at each other as the drumbeats ceased for the evening. This was Amri’s favorite time in the swamp, she knew – the moments where the firebugs emerged and the birds sang their goodnights to the suns, when the busy Glenfoot calmed and the torches were lit.

Amri’s ears drooped as his eyelids got heavier, and he sighed deeply. “I feel terrible about scaring Embryn,” he admitted.

Naia leaned forward so she could trail her fingers through his hair. The side he usually kept short had grown out, looking just as it had when she’d woken from a twelve-day coma in the Valley of the Mystics. She made a mental note to trim it for him. “I do, too. I warned her that it might happen, but I didn’t expect her to react so badly.”

“It’s not your fault. She was in Domrak when the Threaders came,” he explained, and Naia’s eyes went wide. “She and a few of the other girls managed to fly into the higher portions of the cave and hide, but they still saw what happened. That’s why she was rattled. She said it looked the same.” He frowned. “Her mother died, that day, too. SkekLi did it.” Amri didn’t offer any further details, but Naia could imagine what had happened well enough. She’d been there, after all, and she hadn’t been the only Gelfling to be struck down by SkekLi and the Arathim.

“That explains it,” she whispered. She couldn’t imagine having to witness her entire clan being assaulted and their minds erased, let alone at such a young age. “She seems more attached to you than Cade is,” she noted. “Cade obviously cares about you just as much-”

Amri interrupted her. “I still cannot believe you let him give me his blood.”

“You needed it and he wanted to,” Naia quipped. “Anyway, with Embryn, it seems different somehow. More personal.”

He closed his eyes again, breathing more deeply than he had ever since he’d been injured. “Cade’s father is up in Ha’rar. Cade’s only here because it’s safer here. But Embryn’s like me. I think that’s why,” he murmured.

“Like you?”

“You know…” he mumbled, speaking slowly as he sank steadily toward sleep. “We’re both homeless. Both orphans with no other family left. We’re alone – so we have to stick together.”

“You’re not alone,” she whispered, but he didn’t hear her. His breaths had evened out, and she was sure he’d sleep through the night with the help of the pain medication.

She watched him sleep from her place in the chair beside the bed. Even with him sleeping peacefully, she found herself unable to rest.

Was that truly how he felt? Alone? As he if he had no family? She thought back to the day when he’d first told her he wanted to follow her wherever she went. Thought of her arms around his torso, about that fluttering in her chest when she’d realized she wanted the same thing. Her feelings had only grown since then, and she knew his had, too. Still, maybe she had missed something.

To her, he’d been part of the family since they’d returned to Sog and her father had taught him to throw a _bola_. Since her mother had invited him to his first council meeting, and since he’d been the only one who could console Pemma after her first heartbreak. Since Gurjin had started calling him ‘brother’. Since she’d asked if he could move into her rooms within the _maudren_ ’s apartments and received only a knowing smile and nod as an answer.

He’d been a part of her much longer. Since they’d fought side-by-side. Since they’d dived headlong into a lake in the middle of the desert and she’d given him breath. Since he’d found her when she hadn’t even realized she was lost without him.

His words haunted her as the moons rose and continued to echo in her mind even as they began their descent toward morning. She hadn’t realized he didn’t feel the same about her. Hadn’t realized that he didn’t consider her his family.

She traced the bags under his eyes with her gaze. Watched the rise and fall of his chest beneath the blanket – something she’d never take for granted again. There was a strange ache in hers, just beneath her breastbone. A flutter, or a fracture?

It felt like both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took over a month. I am so sorry for the wait! As always, thank you so much for your comments! You all keep me motivated to keep working on this love letter to Drenchgrot.
> 
> I have decided to stop guessing how many chapters this is going to be. In any case, I really hope you are enjoying the continued recovery process, however awful things still for Amri right now!
> 
> Next up: Naia has a bad week, Deet arrives, and Amri has an important chat with Bellanji.
> 
> MUSIC:  
> -Erupting Light by Hildur Gudnadottir, Johann Johannsson  
> -Carry Me Anew by Olafur Arnalds  
> -Down the Line by Jose Gonzalez  
> -Slow It Down by the Lumineers  
> -Delicate by Damien Rice  
> -Nicest Thing by Kate Nash


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